The snow, the budget and so on..
I haven’t written in days, because there’s nothing new or interesting on my mind. It’s all snow, the budget, Christmas, snow, the budget, ad nauseum..
I’ve discussed snow before, way back, when I could still see the positive side of it. Now, I’m done with the snow, absolutely over it. Sick of walking like a 90-year-old; scared of my life of falling. I’ve heard of two broken wrists and one broken hip, the latter belonging to a 29-year-old man. What chance do I have two years his senior?
As for the budget, I’m trying my best to ignore it. I’d like for someone to divide it up for me, into ‘affects you’, ‘interesting to note’ and ‘doesn’t matter a tuppenny damn’, but I still doubt I'd read it.
I walked past the Dáil the other day, budget day, on my way to the National Gallery, whistling Christmas carols! Garda vans, news vans, photographers and protestors, all ignored in my Christmassy head.
And so this is Christmas, and what have I done? Very little I fear with 16 days to go, but I have started and tús maith leath no hoibre, right?!
I cleared the space in the sitting room for the tree. I decided to give Alan (my artificial tree) a year off and get a real tree this year, but have thought nothing more of it. My car is snowed in and I’ve no interest in disturbing it. The tree will appear as if by magic, I'm sure.
I have Christmas crackers, cards and stamps, napkins and toilet paper. I’ve been wearing my Christmas socks and remembered yesterday morning that I own Christmas hand towels, so will have to dig them out from under the others: guest, fancy guest…
Christmas shopping will commence on Saturday morning, the morning after the Christmas party. I’ve made a list and lost it. I’ve emailed friends with pleas of help for ideas. I’ll go into town, get my coffee and walk determinedly into the first shop, get mushed and squished and run screaming. And by run I mean step gingerly muttering ‘I hate the snow… stupid snow… hate the snow’.
Ah, but I am looking forward to it though. It’s the most Christmassy I’ve felt in years. I took agin it some years ago, for reasons I won’t bore you with today, but over the last couple of years my spirit has come back and this year more than ever.
Someone new to buy for, someone to welcome home, the good stuffing, Brussels sprouts, nights out, catching up, woolly jumpers, warm fires and thoughts of Irish coffees and mince pies taking place of sugar-plum fairies, dancing in my head.