Merry Christmas

The red and green of Christmas is everywhere to be seen. Trees with lights that sparkle at night prop up all along the road in festive gaiety. Bed and breakfast places, their dirty walls adorned with last year’s decoration reserves. At office, danglings in a riot of colours hang precariously like trapezium artists. Streets bustling with a shopping frenzy. Slashed prices, more for less, that pair of shoes you always wanted at a 30% discount. Everyone’s binging. Parading through the streets with more shopping bags than two hands can carry.

No one’s noticed or no one’s bothered about the temperatures that have dropped; about the bare trees heralding winter; about the fact that their shopping bags have three jumpers and two pairs of gloves. The gloom and cold of the winter shall wait. At least until the last bottle of red wine is finished, till Santa Claus has gone back on his sled to his Artic haven, till the Christmas trees have all been removed, sparkling lights et al. Shops will go back to marked retail prices, decorations will be stacked up in cardboard boxes for December next. And before you know, it would be cold and winter and another Julian calendar year.

But anyways, for now it’s all bright and shining. Merry Christmas.