Tuesday, December 22, 2009

The big fat hairy man is coming

The last few weeks have gone just like an advent calendar, different every day. One day you get a flock of sheep, the next you’re crossing paths with some wise men, and then you get a visit from a jolly fat man. Now we are in the 20-something days, things are getting exciting, with work out of the way and the festivities commencing with food and shorts and coffees and catch ups and just a general great big relieving sigh.

Christmas should be a time for giving, a time for sharing, a time for extra spiders and snakes that could give you a scaring. If Santa does come he’d be best advised to avoid the creepies in the chimney. The thing lying around that looks like an old bike tire will down all seven reindeer in one ho ho ho. Visibility may be reduced by bushfire haze. Best stick to that Northern Hemisphere, where the sleigh is undoubtedly more suited than Eurostar.


For all its otherworldly perversity though, Christmas in Australia has some unique benefits, notably the weather but also some fine fresh food to enjoy, the air-con of the mall making Christmas shopping actually rather appealing, and the longer light evenings in which to gather and sing songs about the weather outside being frightful. It’s not a white Christmas but golden, from the flaming sun to the thirsty earth and, here‘s hoping, the tanned goddesses on Coogee beach.


Like Christmases and end of years everywhere it is a time for reflecting on what has been and what will be but more importantly not worrying about either and just living for the moment. Remembering those we love and loving those we remember and remembering to remember to not remember too much and love the day for the memories it will bring that you will love when you remember them during memory remembrances in the future. It is also about awful use of English language which is supposed to sound meaningful in Christmas cards. And opportunistically linking pictures to some term or word in the text, not that I would do such a thing, I reflected over at the War Memorial the other day.


And if I did, so what, it’s like water off a duck’s back.


And with Christmas cracker quality writing I’d like to grab a cold beer and wish you a wonderful holiday season. After a few days pottering around Canberra and rather enjoying it I’ll be off to Sydney, where the forecast for the big day itself is at best dubious, so no boozy antics getting sunburnt down at Bondi Beach thankfully. There should be brunches, beach bathing, boat trips, bowlers and bushwalks aplenty to look forward to over the next couple of weeks, which may or may not be documented on this very page. For now, farewell, adios, au revoir and a few sausages wrapped in bacon to you all.

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