CHRISTMAS IN 666 WORDS

 

For over a month now, the commercialisation of Christmas has been driving me and others mad. Spoiling what was once a fun occasion. So let's jumble up the letters and Christmas becomes Shitcram.

In fact, we’re longing for the spring to come around, so we can get outside to enjoy our newly laid Indian Sandstone patio.

Meantime, we are where we are. And we must learn to deal with it. This enforced festive nonsense in the shops and on the television and social media where the observations posted by the Dull Men’s Club provide a few laughs and some respite.

September was barely done with when the first of the Shitcram themed family magazines crept onto my local supermarket shelves.  Horrified, I did what any sensible person would do.

I promptly covered them up by placing other mags over them and no one noticed, for they remained covered for the best part of week.

But then the onslaught got under way and by mid October  I couldn’t keep up with this strategy as the shelves swelled with a plague of Shitcram stuff – muting Halloween and Bonfire Night at a stroke,

 And the adverts are full on and ramming it all down our throats with two clear months to go.

Some of the ads are fun, of course. But mostly they're boring,  that and the verbal diarrhoea from  TV presenters makes me want to throw up.

Best Shitcram commercial so far has to be the Tesco one which is so unlike all the other stereotypical advertisements. Typically they comprise the ubiquitous smiling families baring t heir gleaming perfect teeth, mums and dads, grandparents and the grandchildren all laughing and joking and gathering around tables laden with food.

This trend which has got worse over the years clearly gave Tesco’s marketing people an idea for a new USP. So they hit on an idea of showing the grumpy gathering with forced smiles, and a man frowning and saying, “Oh, I see it’s that time of year again.” The scene also depicts two younger men – uncles probably – arguing and close to blows as other family members – none smiling – look on.   The scene is wrapped up with a slogan about Tesco providing all the food you need to get through it all.  Because it’s not uncommon for the day to finish off with mum in tears – it’s always a mum in these sexist scenes - because off all the pressure of preparation. Bah.

As an innocent child Christmas, as I happily still knew it, only began to roll come December, not end of September. That was a long enough for children, counting off the days to Christmas Eve when we would put out stockings at the end of bed.

And now for a word for the forgotten others, several thousands of them, ill in bed.  I have to do this in this from time to time, in the name of balance.

Because the reality for many households with serious health issues – EDS, POTS, autism, ME

meriting zilch empathy from doctors - means Shitcram is often a very much scaled down affair. Carers are up and down stairs throughout the day tending their sick lying bed too ill to take part. So no entertaining at home, no going down the pub. The horror of isolation.

Not helped by universal practice of surgeries not providing routine home visits to anyone housebound, unless pressed to.

We’ll have our little tree up with lights on. And we’ll send out cards to keep in touch with old friends and relatives.  The charity on our Shitcram cards this year is autism.

Best stay clear of those Facebook posts boasting of a house full of family for Shitcram dinner. Ah, but that’s mean, bitter. Who knows what trauma, what health issues, individuals around that table have survived, even now may have to deal with.  So, go on, pull your crackers. Get merry.

Bit of luck we’ll watch cyclo-cross and cross-country skiing on the tele. And “Gone Fishing”.