Are we there yet? Is it time? I am ready. I am ready to play jingle bells so loud my teeth vibrate, to have flashing santys swing off my ear lobes and to dip my head into a vat of mince pies never to be seen again.
I have been warned by Scrooge Mac Bah Humbug Joe that I am not allowed put the Christmas tree up any earlier than December first. But Christmas is practically over by then I say fondly stroking my elf costume with tinsel headgear. It hasn't stopped me getting prepared though, silently planning my moves, twinkly outdoor lights this year. Colourful ones, that'll flash so fast they'll cause fits. An inflatable santa who laughs, admittedly a little creepy but still there's a certain charm to an unexpected murderous cackle. Snow globes and elves have been sourced and ranked in accordance to proximity to the tree. Only the fittest and snowiest will make the cut.
I cannot wait to wrap my arms around anyone or anything solid and sway from side to side screaming so loud my voice cracks you scumbag you maggot you cheap lousy faggot, happy Christmas me arse. All this with mistletoe strapped to my head, a selection box melting under my arm, and turkey sweats setting in.
Hurry up Christmas, stop creeping and start jumping
Ehhhh George, don't go giving away your heart AGAIN this Christmas without talking to me.
I am dead jealous of you if you haven't read David Sedaris The Santaland Diaries, because you get to discover him and enjoy a first read like no other. Here's an excerpt, no one does Christmas better or funnier.
I went to a talk last night. I'm laughing at myself writing that, I don't 'go to talks', I watch movies, push a pram around, read books and drink wine, but somehow weirdly possessed by a demon of self education I decided to go to one. It was on synchronicity and the power of coincidences. You see, I couldn't not go after I'd read the sign. What if it was a sign? I spent too much time thinking about the possible meaning of the sign, and before I knew it I was in a hot and steamy town hall listening to more talk of signs. It was interesting. I like that fuzzy stuff. (The upshot was to notice what you notice, if that makes sense?)
It made me think of an email I got from a reader about two weeks ago. She told me about a YA book 'This is what happy looks like' by Jennifer Smith. The main character is 17 and is called Ellie O'Neill and apparently looks like me. I think that's gas.
Is that a coincidence? What am I supposed to do with that information? Universe? Hello? I'm not sure. But I have ordered the book. And I'm looking forward to finding out what fictitious me did at 17, because the real me was pretty badly behaved......
There's fictitious 17 year old me, about to have a moment of passion on a boat.
Is that a sign?