Tis the Season to be Prickly

Our ancestors knew quite a lot about the so-called festive season. Originally it started as a mid-winter festival to try and coax the sun to return from its long journey and also to get everyone together in one large barn-like structure to keep the fuel from running out.
Sounds familiar? Well, let’s look a bit deeper.
I don’t intend to throw facts & figures at you. I know the original dates very roughly for the Celtic feasts and that the Gregorian calendar was later changed to merge both dates into one, thereby fooling all those druidic followers to stop whatever they were doing with Mistletoe and Mead. (apologies to Sir Cliff).
It was also a good time of year to use up all those vegetables that were starting to pong a bit. In fact I have a far better theory about sprouts than a certain recently-aired BBC programme.
I have my suspicions about the slaughtering of animals to save the cattle-feed for the best of the bunch as well. You wouldn’t get much cheer from eating a bit of scrawny old rump now, would you?
As to pretty robins on Christmas cards, have you heard the true facts about robins? Vicious little sods, but they had some clever ideas about survival. (Thanks go to Bill Oddie for that myth exploded).
Next I intend to look at those lively old carols.
Consider “Deck the Halls with boughs of Holly, tra-la, fiddle-de-dee etc). Nope…nothing to do with the thorns around Christ’s head. Holly was revered long before Christianity became the most popular and enduring religion.
Which circles back nicely to my title .
Consider ye, the tidings of comfort & joy emanating from such classic TV series as Eastenders, where Xmas wouldn’t be Xmas without some frosty scenes from the Old Vic, to name just one place.
What about all those great classic TV repeats as well? Apart from certain warmongering films, we are getting some better value for our ever-dwindling money with the occasional good treat of Dr Who and (peace & goodwill), those clever duo, Wallace & Gromit.
My three year-old grandson didn’t turn a hair at the sight of furry cyber men dragging people off to wicked ways of dying. My mind was back in the (cough, cough), earlier days of Dr Who in black and white and me, behind our sagging sofa, scared…well you know the ending to that one.

Christmas Day with the in-laws. Now that’s worth a good month’s session on the shrink’s couch to start with.
Why do in-laws (and specially in-laws with a few more pounds in their bank account than you), always have better photos of your own child, grandchild, etc when you make do with a measly offering taken at school photo sessions?
Is there anyone else out there who remembers every single bauble on the (old and sagging) Christmas tree? You know the ones I mean. Those your own child added each year, with a pedigree longer than the Queen’s Corgis.
It’s good for a blubbering session each year, thereby releasing all those pent-up emotions related with relatives who just happen to be perfect in every way.
Now would their Xmas tree DARE to shed one needle from its glittering false branches? Or the chains of perfectly colour-co-ordinating baubles move an inch?
Yes, it’s time to dump enough wasted mince pies to feed an African nation for a whole year and head off to the New Year (come early) sales.
And to those who wish to join me with tales of Christmas ghosts…these few snippets from my grandson are enough to offset that bunch of holly sticking out of a very painful place.
Quotes:-

“No, Nana, you can’t go on the swings, your bum’s too fat. “
“ You can’t sing, Nanny.”
“ How can YOU do pee-pees? You haven’t got a prick.”
What on earth do they learn in Infant schools these days?
Whoops, sorry, that’s Pre-school, not Infant School, or (heaven forbid), nursery school.
“Mother, don’t turn little (fill in name) upside down, He (she’s) just eaten.”
So what? I got turned upside down so often that “ Upsa-Daisy” could have been modelled on me. Worse case scenario is getting rid of all those unwanted sprouts.
Right folks. I am off to the sales. Not to see what I can buy. My New Year’s resolution is already in force. I am NOT going to buy next years Christmas presents this year. I just want to see all the idiots running around like ants.
I might just slip my exposed film into the chemist on the way. Despite the fact that there isn’t any of me with my grandson on the whole of the film. (Sly dig there.)
Seriously friends. I hope your Christmas wasn’t TOO prickly and that your New Year is a bit better than half-hearted.
And while you may say “ bah Humbug,” I say, “ Whoops, There goes another resolution. Not to expect anything more from the festive season than a few undigested sprouts.
“Merry Xmas to Everyone.”

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