I confess to an inner humbug when it comes to Christmas. Back in the fargone glory days of childfree wandering, I tended to ignore this celebration if I could, usually working on the day (music) thereby ensuring a provided lunch, money in the pocket, and another Christmas side-stepped. I don't know what it is - well I do, but I won't go into it here. Suffice to say, it's not my favourite time of year.
Now with an eight year old child, the humbug is kept on a tight leash as I do my best to make her experience magical. And despite myself, I have, in the last few years, quite enjoyed it too. Wonders never ceasing etc.
Last night we put up the tree and decorated, and then had the switching on of the lights which we toasted with lime sodas clinking with loads of ice. And it occurred to me that what I'd REALLY like is a white Christmas.
Next year.
My father now lives in Europe. Don't know why I didn't think of it before.
Now there's something that would wipe the smirk off this humbug's face.
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