Merry Christmas

It’s not that I’m a useless lazy wench incapable of organising my way out of a paper-bag let alone the biggest event of the year, but I must confess, I am not yet totally sorted out.
The trouble is, when you are standing at the top of the ladder at the top of a flight of stairs, turn around and see the 20 odd foot drop behind you, one becomes rather more concerned with not experiencing a messy death from height rather than making time to ice the Christmas cake. Having avoided the aforementioned, one becomes rather inclined to tea based reward rather than any of the hundred other things on the increasingly ominous To Do list.

However, Christmas is not about getting things done. I am a hippy and understand this. Not for me the last wild-eyed dash around the shops in commercial desperation; I am perfectly happy if I get the chance to just drink tea, heckle the Queen and give the Cat enough turkey to make her sit really still for a very long time.
Unfortunately other people are not so keen on this philosophy and insisted that I had to help He Who Knows Everything bring the tree in and then help Mammy and Strider decorate it. I offered a decorative stick but was rudely rebuffed.

They were quite right to insist of course. The tree is lovely and smells divine even if they did begin decorating it in my absence and went for a tasteful and colour co-ordinated look which was too late to change by the time I turned up to help.
Throughout our childhoods, Strider and I held a yearly battle over the Christmas tree scheme. She always wanted to do it tastefully in red and gold whereas I fought tooth and nail to have every decoration we owned placed upon it, including the naked plastic cherub with the satanic expression. In later years when we began buying a real tree, I would have the 4ft plastic one in my bedroom. The cat would spend all Christmas attempting to ascend it in the hope of destroying the jaunty pantyhose fairy on the top but I maintain repeated fallings over added to the Look.

Strider and Mammy rejected both my purple fluffy fairy lights and my white fluffy fairy lights. They have even rejected the Lights Which Do Things but this is probably down to my unfortunate habit of switching them to Caffeine-Overdose mode. Instead it is simple and elegant and won’t take 4 hours to remove everything once January rolls around. I am most disappointed.
They did, however, allow me to do the grand Switching On. Strider said that because I’ve done TV I am officially a Z list celebrity and that I should be glad of any gig I can get.

He Who Knows Everything is my only ally in rubbish Christmas decorativeness. He has stung some fairy lights in a tree near the fence. He said he was going to put them on the well-house but saw the tree and changed his mind.
I like them very much. If you squint really hard they look like a dislocated rabbit.

To all of you, my very best wishes for peace in your lives and happiness always. Where ever you are, whoever you are with, make your moments enjoyable.
Find the people you love and tell them so. Find something to love about the people you don’t. Let go of bad feelings and imagined slights. The benefit of the doubt can be given for free.
Extend your hearts to those in need. Preserve a space for yourself. Endeavour to do more even if you think you can not; you can do more than you imagine with a word or a gesture.

Show only the best of yourself to the world.

Nadolig Llawen, Happy Christmas