Marked by relentless marketing since November, make or break sales targets for retailers, Christmas card lists, present lists, shopping lists, lists of all the things that have had lists made about them, buying enough food to service a large refugee camp for a month, worrying about people not bought cards for, worrying that the post has not delivered all the cards and presents sent, attending various carol services and/or nativity plays, attending several embarrassing Christmas parties and - of course - deciding where and with whom you will spend the special time this year.
This IS Christmas, and we are pretty much stuck with it. It's not even that bad really - it's just that we love complaining about things in this great country of ours. Nothing wrong in that either. So, all is well and as it should be. I am content.
Dropping in to the Foxhunters pub near Whitley Bay tonight, I chanced to notice a card, strewn on the table we managed to lay claim to, after an uneasy stand-off with a group of shop workers who perceived their need to be greater than ours. (Point to note: Can a single card be 'strewn'?) Naturally, I was victorious. When it comes to sitting completely still and pretending not to notice anyone or anything, I am always a clear winner.
I digress. The card fascinated me. It was a card, a discarded card. Given, received and then unwanted. Unbearably sad. I will carry to my grave, a concern for Derek, Helen, Hannah and Charlotte - who so obviously care not particularly for Shelley, Andy, Matty & Erin (one kiss only). For me it is a sad little vignette of the lack of care 
which is wrapped around this festival of goodwill. Then it crossed my mind that this might have been an attacking card. You know the sort of thing - a last minute card given by someone not really expected to send a card, and leaving absolutely no time for a retaliatory salvo. I hate that kind of thing, yet have been known to issue the first strike in such a fight. Ah, the British, how the world must laugh at us. We're so petty.
To finish off this little outing into the outer reaches of Christmas Eve in the North East, what could be more appropriate than a shot of the drama our church cleverly inflicted on the good people of North Shields tonight. Here, we see the shepherds being shocked by an angel (Colin) who likes shocking shepherds.
I can personally testify that they were all shocking shepherds.
Happy Christmas. Happy Christmas everyone. No, really.
Aww.....go on. :)
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