With just over two weeks to go, we can safely assume that the annual meat-and-drink-and-falling-asleep fest is on its way. It takes a while for me to get excited about the Christmas period these days. Christmas isn't quite the same when you're an old fart. But I think I'm finally achieving it. Excitement, that is - I think I passed the Old Fart Threshold some years back, just about the time I started to find furniture catalogues vaguely interesting.
I can remember when I was (a lot) younger that I'd get excited about Christmas from about October onwards. Even the shock realisation at about age 8 that Father Christmas was in fact my dad wearing a knitted bobble hat in Birmingham City colours did little to put me off.
There are certain things that signal the onset of Yule. The Christmas adverts used to be a giveaway. Even in my jaded old age, the screening of the first "Holidays are coming" Coke ads in November used to be a highpoint. But now they've replaced the Coke trucks with that travesty of an advert with a dodgy-looking Santa stalking the same woman over a 40 year period. It's just a little creepy, and definitely not the same.
So now I have to make do with this:
Nothing. And I mean, nothing, says "Birth of baby Jesus" better than a CGI gamebird flogging Scotch.
Anyway, we have in the last few days received our first Christmas cards and presents. Look at this!
We had this clock from our local Indian (OK, Bangladeshi) restaurant and a feng shui desk calendar and writing set from the Chinese takeaway. As we approach what is essentially a Christian festival, I'd like to say a quick hurrah to the Muslim and Buddhist purveyors of tasty delights.
I'm not 100% sure what this says about us - we don't get takeout food that often, surely? This may explain why I reached 18 stone earlier this year...