Thursday 19 December 2019

Not Being Scrooge.

I think I should correct the impression which I have undoubtedly given that I completely ignore Christmas. I don’t. I acknowledge the tradition by allowing myself a few indulgences, these being:

1. The purchase of a pack of small panatela cigars which I smoke between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve.

2. Granting myself consent to drink alcohol before midnight during the same period, the most enjoyable indiscretion being a glass of port as an aperitif before several dinners.

3. Having something different than usual, and a little more expensive, for dinner on Christmas Day and Boxing Day.

4. Watching a few TV programmes, almost always dark and creepy literary adaptations.

5. Eating mince pies and stollen slices because Christmas is the only time I eat such comestibles so it feels right. (I gather stollen is of German origin, but I doubt the stuff which comes in boxes from Sainsbury’s and Tesco bears much resemblance to the Teutonic original. I make due allowance.)

And that’s about it. No Christmas tree, no fairy lights, no tinsel, and definitely no entertaining or visiting. I think it was the entertaining and visiting which most put me off Christmas in the first place.

(I wish I could think of something interesting to write on this blog. It’s becoming an issue.)

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