I never got around to sharing my piece from the Examiner last week. So here goes…
My twelve days of Christmas.
Remember that special feeling, only a few short weeks ago, when you heard the first Christmas song playing on the radio? Now, everywhere we turn those Christmas songs are blaring. Somehow they don’t seem to have quite the same joyous effect any more. Or maybe that’s just me?
There are a few Christmas songs I never tire of, such as Bing Crosbie’s ‘White Christmas’ or the Pogues ‘Fairy tale of New York’. However, there is one song to which I am allergic. Such is my irrational dislike for it, that if I were in a shop and it was on I would leave. It’s that most ridiculous of songs, ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’. I feel rage as I listen to it’s ‘Lords a leaping,’ and ‘maids a milking’ not to mention a ‘partridge in a pear tree,” . I know it’s centuries old, a lasting memory of bygone days, but I think it’s about time we left it in the past. I know I for one wouldn’t miss it.
On occasions when I’m trapped with no hope of escape and I hear it playing, I amuse myself by dragging it into the twenty first century with new lyrics, such as ‘three weeks a sleeping, two extra hands for helping and a million Euro under the tree.’ The other day while engaged in this rather ridiculous nonsense, I changed the song’s title and rewrote it as a series of diary entries rather than a song.
The twelve days to Christmas
Twelve days to Christmas…I smile when people ask “Are you all organised?”. Plenty time yet. No need to sweat. Everything’s under control. Let the holiday season begin.
Eleven days to Christmas…Spent the morning in garden centres and garages searching for the perfect Christmas tree. Untangled Christmas tree lights for three hours. Tree up before dark. Looks a little lopsided. Perhaps not our best ever.
Ten days to Christmas…Attend my first Christmas night out. Enjoy the Christmas songs and atmosphere enormously. Perhaps a little too enormously, but no worries, it’s Christmas!
Nine days to Christmas…The morning after the night before. Not sure I’ll make it to Christmas. No shopping today.
Eight days to Christmas…Getting intensely irritated by people asking, “Are you organised?”. Shopping not going well.
Seven days to Christmas…Work is piling up. Agree with cranky older people that Christmas is way too commercialised.
Six days to Christmas…Another night out. Went out early to come home early, but forgot to come home. Forgot house keys too.
Five days to Christmas…Have a splitting headache after enjoying the season a little too much last night. Attempt to shop…fail.
Three days to Christmas…I have gone off Christmas big time. I seriously hate this season, almost as much as I hate those who tell me they are “all finished”.
Two days to Christmas…Must shop all day. Why do I not know anyone who is a size 6? List abandoned. There’s nothing wrong with gift vouchers.
One day to Christmas…Panic, panic, panic. Am sure everyone loves socks, scarves and gloves. Wrap presents. Forgot to buy labels. Turkey looks too small. Ham smells odd. Arrive for 6 pm Mass at 5pm. Standing room only.
Christmas Day…Time to exchange gifts. Read faces and wish I hadn’t, as they mutter “Do you have the receipt?” Spend day cooking, cleaning and sleeping. Wake for arrival of friends. Excel at the annual games and sing song. Go to bed at a very late hour, in love with family, friends and life.
So sad Christmas is over.
photo credit: Brian_Kellett via photopin cc