Christmassy

Not doing very well with the updating of this am I. Oh well, I hope at least someone is still reading it.

I thought they didn’t have Christmas over here. I thought it was a western thing, a pleasantly commercialised ritual confined to those nations whose idea of a slap up meal is a beefburger and Doritos. Apparently not however. Since mid-October, every supermarket, grocers, general store and shopping centre has begun adorning its walls with enough tack to kill little baby Jesus and make Santa cry. The simple volume of the stuff hung up there makes you marvel at Japanese architecture and the amount of stress it must be capable of taking.

There’s stuff on sale too. Imagine, if you will, the average British bargain shop. For simplicity’s sake, lets imagine B&M bargains in Cleveleys, a vast maze of winding corridors bursting with tat. Now, lets pack it full of Japanese teenagers, all of whom are screaming at something or other. Got that? Ok. Now lets chuck in all the tackiest, noisiest, most plastic Christmas decorations you can think off. We’re talking Christmas trees with scary faces that appear out of nowhere, Santa models that blow polystyrene balls from their head as it t’were snow, Rudolphs constructed entirely out of neons which sing, for some reason, I Vow To Thee My Country. Imagine all that, and add in the shop décor we discussed above. Ok? Well you’re about halfway there.

Personally I love it. Those of you who know me quite well should also know that I love Christmas. I really do, it’s great. I love the build up to Christmas, the first Christmas adverts (usually Argos or Coke) appearing on TV. I love trying to decide on something expensive to ask for as a gift (and seeing my parents reactions when I actually do). Most of all, I love the strange feeling that everything is a bit better at this time of year. Everything is that less…serious.

My Christmas’ at Uni were a mixed bunch. I can’t for the life of me remember the first one, mainly because I was out of Horsforth as fast as my little legs could take me as soon as I could. I think the halls at Trinity and All Saints were probably the least festive place I’ve even been in my life. Claustrophobic, hospital white corridors led to tiny, cramped rooms with furniture dating back to the 70s. And not the cool, kitsch 70s; the 70s that invented paisley wallpaper and thought frilly lampshades were cool. If it were not for the people that lived there I may have been scarred for life. About Christmas.

2nd year Christmas was like most of the 2nd year…much better than the first. Had it not been for the horrible circumstances that year brought with it I have no doubt I would have enjoyed myself immensely. Infact, looking back on any period of my time at 10b Cumberland brings back pleasant memories and good times. I loved that place, and loved living there even more.

And that brings me nicely to this Christmas just gone. This perhaps is my favourite of the three, although extremely different. The last year at Uni was one of contrasts, the good with the bad. On one hand, 33 Cumberland Road was a terrible place to live physically. It was cramped, confined and promoted a separation of the people who lived there. No longer did we have communal dinners in the living room as the 33 Ebberston living room was a damp, drafty hellhole located in the basement, 3 flights of stairs away from me. The kitchen was possibly too big, and always too full of dirty washing and rubbish to congregate in. I really missed the community of 10b. However, thanks to a certainly lovely lady, I had a great Christmas period. Popping down to the Co-op for mince pies (me) and salad (her). Watching the Christmas period This Morning’s. Going to Starbucks and drinking Venti (me) and whatever small is in there (her) Eggnog lattes. All brilliant memories.

Anyway, I’m going on a bit now. I love Christmas you see. Expect more feverish festive ramblings soon.