Christmas Day Notes.

I’ve thought about Christmas from all possible angles and I still don’t know why people do it, allowing themselves in the process to be subjected to all manner of social and financial pressures. I assume it has something to with the cultural togetherness thing, which is why it’s such a mystery to me.

The correct answer to the question ‘how many wise men were there?’ is: nobody knows. I gather the Bible doesn’t say, although I admit I haven’t checked.

I've decided that when people ask me why I don’t have a Christmas tree or decorate my house in any way, I should do the sad face and tell them it’s because I have nobody to share it with. It strikes me that it would make a fitting antidote to being called Scrooge.

I had a visitor this morning – a slug in my kitchen. It’s quite common to get slugs in my kitchen at night, but almost unheard of during daylight hours. I supposed it had something to with it being Christmas Day. I’ve never had a visitor on Christmas Day in this house before.

It hasn’t escaped my notice that even visits to my blog plummet on Christmas Day. If I didn’t know better I’d assume that people have something more interesting to engage with.

I did go for a walk today after all, but chose a time and route which would minimise the risk of being accosted by trite and inappropriate felicitations. It worked.

The bottle of port I just finished off was about seven years old, so now I’m wondering whether the new one I subsequently opened, and which I bought last week, has any chance of being consumed before I head off into the undiscovered country. I also wonder whether they have Christmas in the undiscovered country.