I was totally going to bah humbug this. Really, I was. I have not been feeling especially festive; my bells have not, as they say, been jingling. But you know… it's Christmas! Well, near enough, anyways. Sparkly, shiny things have always been my downfall, and Christmas is the sparkliest season of them all. Presents, tinsel, ribbons, the small tree ornament we found in box that looks vaguely like it’s wearing a KKK outfit – I love them. They distract me, they are delightful (well, maybe not so much the white-supremacist mouse), and induce in me a reaction which borders on the epileptic. For but two weeks a year, I am consumed by things that flicker. Oh parents of Alexander, the small child forgotten at a Christmas light display, one day your pain will also be mine.
As I’m too lazy to really write much on this these days, in bad-sitcom style, I shall try and reflect back on all the year that was:
Last year, I was putting the final touches on a thesis that could only swim on the screen in front of me; this year, I have glasses. Last year I was 10 days off moving to a Belgian winter; this year I’m guiltily embracing the drought. Last year, I decided I was going to be a grown up, get a full-time job, and make some form of something from my life; this year I laugh at the pear-shapedness of existence and have started to grow my own vegetables.
So that’s my news, not so exciting perhaps, but, you know, in times of turmoil and economic crisis, I feel pretty lucky to be able to label this one a Good Year. Thanks for your company, kids, have a lovely and safe Christmas and New Year.