Bah, humbug

Dear Shark, Squirrel and Tiger. Forgive me. I cannot join the Christmas expectations that excite you, in shopping malls, in TV advertisements, in Tesco.

I do not know what causes my indifference to the glittered aisles of a supermarket chain. I should look at all that red and silver with child eyes. Perhaps I am secretly sickly, but each year that passes, Christmas seems to mean less and less, while the tinsel grows more and more.

In fact my great achievement in the festive department so far has been to screech the car to a halt this Monday morning, tear over to the petrol station, burst through the shop door, and complain, loudly and intemperately, to a grovellingly apologetic Tesco checkout woman in front of a hushed and watching, foot-shuffling queue.

On the plus side, I note that when I slammed the shop door back on its hinges, everyone lined up inside bore an expression so defeated they lacked only a noose for their hands. I congratulate myself in spicing up an otherwise miserable Monday morning. Also, I note with smug righteousness, that the Cliff Richard anthem is no longer blasted at 9am over the petrol forecourt, full whack through the tannoy.

Having inhibited that particular Christmas mood, I could turn my attention elsewhere. Like grown women who wear reindeer antlers in streets. Or the bicycling Santa at number 29. Or the blue flashing lights hanging down from the windows at number 45, Derek Street. I mean, how stupid is that? To install lights that scream authority blue, late at night along the streets of Smalltown? No wonder the traffic crawls along and I panic about mints.

But even if all the Tesco joy in all the world means nothing to me, and the trees, tinsel, cards, and glitter in the Dyson mean very little more, I look at you three children, and think you mean more to me than all the Christmases that can be manufactured, anywhere.

You are special, dear Shark, Squirrel and Tiger. And you are extra, extra, extra special for indulging mama, and taking her to the oh-so-wanted and longed-for cinema excursion, to sit back in comfort and great excitement, with glasses and popcorn, to watch A Christmas Carol in 3D.