Isn't it all meant to be about peace and goodwill and standing round a christmas tree admiring it's baubles in a kind of awestruck silence?
Christmas, and the lead up to was once a concept similar to that of libraries, churches and a smattering of bookshops. Quiet enough for contemplation and just the right amount of interesting things to jostle the inspiration that lurks in all of us in to action.
As much as I hate shopping malls (I only really venture inside when I absolutely have to, or need to practice my people wrangling skills) the other morning I found myself in a decently sized one, I had errands to run, and I also needed to make a call. I was early so thought I'd make the best of my time, and make my call while waiting for the store to open.
Fairly simple you'd think. WRONG. The christmas soundtrack was turned up so loud I had to go outside the shopping centre and walk for a spell down the street - so that I could conduct my conversation at a reasonable level, without the good people of Japan knowing the results of my mothers colonoscopy. Perhaps that defeats the purpose?
I love my office, it's a haven of peace and quiet. Mostly. December sneaks in under the door unnoticed and lands on my desk announcing itself in a cacaphony of ringtones (O Come On Ye Unfaithful Meet Me Under The Mistletoe at Midnight and other classics) and bursting in to cicada-like symphony of text messages arriving All. Day. Long.
Ah December.
The month that we worker-bees tend to find frequent cause celebre. Not just the festive season - but also the prize at the end of the year - annual leave - so we party a little harder to better appreciate our downtime. Why can't Chrimmas Parties be QUIET? Especially when you're leaving the restaurant just a little up from my house. And if you park outside my bedroom is it too much to ask to spare a thought for very hardworking young woman trying to sleep through your protracted goodbyes and excessive door-slamming?
So when I'm not being elbowed aside, prammed or shopping trollied in to the frustratingly slow lane, I'm trying to avoid Christmas altogether really.
However, if you're not willing to go to Christmas, it finds some novel ways of coming to you. Such as a telephone call I received at work the other day. Earlier in the year I'd been required to purchase some gift cards from a large purveyor of those all the altars under one roof places. Which I have to admit they made remarkably easy. The purveyor had engaged a novel method of upwards-leveraging and called me to remind me that Christmas was coming.
If I can make one small difference to the world whilst I'm in it - it would be to campaign parliament to ban the playing of christmas muzak. Christmas is a hard time of year for lots of people, reminding us that it's 'that time of year' over and over and over again does little for goodwill, surprisingly.
When will Christmas become the event it was designed for? A time for reflection, and consideration for those less fortunate. A time to give thanks for the gifts that these past twelve months bought us, appreciation for lessons learnt and making it through another year scathed only a touch virtually.
No comments:
Post a Comment