Bah Humbug - it's Christmas Day

Bah Humbug!

It's Christmas Day and ...


I came downstairs and where were the presents? The space under the tree was bare.

What just happened?

I rubbed my eyes.

Still no gifts.

So much for all the wrapping and piling them up under the tree.


They'd disappeared into thin air.

Then, I heard a snigger.


And, there it was.

On top of the piano, where Santa's half eaten mince pie normally sat, and Rudolph usually left a half-eaten carrot.

The gifts had been Grinched.

This was a real Bah Humbug.

More later ...

Bah Humbug - It's December again! I've run out of days, and time to write

Oh Bah Humbug. It's Christmas Eve - only just.

Now I've run out of days and time. Tomorrow will be upon us rather soon. Too soon for my liking. And I have not written a Christmassy rhyme.

I have defrosted the turkey, and thought about cooking tomorrow. And that perhaps I might have to take a nap after lunch as eating turkey makes you sleepy.

Which reminds me, Google Translate - you really are quite something when you translate Turkey as Les pays de Dinde. I am still not quite sure what to make of that.

Back to the impending arrival of Christmas Day, which as I write this has already happened in New Zealand. There are photos to prove that Santa has been there already.

It's been raining heavily here, so I hope he has wet-weather tyres and an effective set of anti-lock brakes on his sleigh.

Meanwhile, Santa's elves have finished wrapping the gifts, so I had to take a photo of the tree, with gifts sitting around it.

It made the tree look less ...

well ...

less austere, and more decadent.

Amazing what a pile of Christmas wrapped empty cardboard boxes can do for a tree.

And so, dinner out of the way, we became Scandinavian.

In a time honoured tradition, that involves opening gifts early, just in case the Vikings turn up, we all opened a gift, or two before midnight. It takes the edge of having to wait until the morning.

Some Lego, a t-shirt emblazoned with sarcasm, a book of Spanish curses, a book about Artificial Intelligence, which made me wonder whether the tree had any feelings, and, a gift, I was not allowed to leave until morning - Dr Marten's boots.

I tried them on.

I'd never had Dr Marten's boots before.

Now I felt young.

And they so go with the pink shorts I am wearing.

I was tempted to go to sleep in them, as they are rather comfortable ... it reminded me of the first pair of trainers that the boys' step dad bought our youngest son. He wore them to bed. They were special.

I thought about wearing my boots to bed again. And then the cat jumped in the Doc Marten's shoe box.

Bah Humbug, I shall have to write something more Christmassy and pudding-like tomorrow.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! It's sort of only one day to go ...

Bah Humbug, December 23rd.

Yet again, if I were writing this in the morning, there would be two days to go, so my countdown would be correct, but because it is now the middle of the night, almost, all that is left is tomorrow.

And, as we know, from being told multiple times by our parents, tomorrow never comes. Procrastination is the thief of time. Which brings me to thoughts of New Year resolutions, even if Christmas is not done and dusted.

I suppose as that fateful day draws ever nearer, and will never go away, unless some new world or galactic order decides to ban Christmas from the planet, I began to think about what Christmas meant to me - stuck in the tropics.

Not the over-heated kitchen, food that should not be consumed in tropical climates, the joyous fact I do not have to eat another Brussels sprout - I would be sent to my room for refusing to even contemplate consuming one - and that I shall be the only greedy one eating Christmas pudding, because no one else likes it.

No, I began to think about living nearly 7,000 miles from home, (or 11,000 km, if you insist - and I am British, not American). The novelty of eating Christmas lunch in shorts and a t-shirt melted away, rather like most things do here, and I thought of my friends and what I can remember of my family on the other side of the world.

And then I thought of my sons. Two boys who were born and raised in the tropics. Two boys who may be British by birthright, but who exude such an international and cosmopolitan outlook on life and the world. Two boys who care for what happens to the world and its fragile ecosystem. Two boys whose school friends are either living here from another part of the world, or who are back home now in their own country, or even living somewhere else.

While the world is this vast blue planet with patches of green, brown and yellow strewn across it, it is not so huge for the youth. Not so huge for our future.

Lunchtime today was spent catching up with old friends, friends who had been there when we needed. Friends originally from Australia. Friends who moved to Singapore, and adopted an orphan from Cambodia who became good friends with my boys. Friends who then moved away, and ended up in Holland. Friends who came to Singapore to stay and took time to catch up, as if it was only yesterday that we had said goodbye. Although, obviously with a gem of a daughter now, it is longer than yesterday.


Yet, time had stood still, for a moment.

Until I tried to take a photograph, and my boys were teenagers again, refusing to be caught on camera.

I think, maybe I should put Bah Humbug in a box for a while ...

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 3 or is it actually 2 days to go?

Bah flipping poo Humbug.

I think I don't believe in Father Christmas, any more.

There are, at this moment, only 2 full days left. And, that is because I am writing in the evening, at the end of the day, when essentially there is not much left of the 3rd day before Christmas.

A day that started off searingly hot, rather like a griddle pan, only I was not about to sit around like a steak waiting to be cooked. After a morning of working, I decided that my hair needed trimming - or I might fast end up resembling Einstein, and I might as well paint my toenails pink. They have been orange for over 6 months now. Time for a change of colour, or I shall be deemed boring or too predictable. Mind you, the orange colour did stick out, like a sore toe.

And, just when I thought things were going tickety-boo as posh people say. I dropped my Blackberry Priv in the carpark. It slipped out of my hand as if it was covered in butter. I don't remember butter at the hairdresser, but maybe I missed something ...

Smack.

And a pretty mosaic of lines across the top of the screen. Naturally, I chastised myself with more than a colourful array of expletives. I chastised myself even more, when I was told by some two-bit repair centre that it would take about 10 days to get the part.

Now, I have to debate whether I go to the official BlackBerry service centre, which you cannot call, or whether I chance it with a dodgy repair shop.

This is why I Bah Humbug Christmas. We are enticed to spend money on frippery, and when we need to get something repaired, it takes five times longer than it should, and is no doubt charged at a premium because it is the holiday season.

I am not sure I believe in Father Christmas any more. Father Misery, alright.

I suppose I shall have to simply listen to Greg Lake and try and believe in Father Christmas. At least he made his protest against the commercialisation of Christmas into a song ...

And I still don't have an oven that works. Wonder if the turkey will freeze until next year?

Bah flipping Humbug.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 4 days to go!

Bah Humbug. 



And, Bah Humbug again. 

Now there are only four more days. I have no oven, I am sure I have forgotten a million and one Christmas cards. 

But then again, that presupposes I have a million and one friends. 



Thankfully, I don't.



Which reminds me of Stonehenge and that today is the Winter Solstice.



Why on earth do we have solstices? There's one in the summer too. It is marked as the shortest day of the year, the start of Winter - although meteorologically, the start of winter is 1st December - along with Advent and the start of me and my Bah Humbugging. 




The solstice is not the actual day, as many would believe, but the specific moment when the sun is over the Tropic of Capricorn. It is the moment when the sun stands still. Well, it seems to, anyway. The Romans thought the sun had stopped, and called it solstitium. 




There's a piece of information to wow your guests with at the dinner table.



The Chinese call 21st December, Dōngzhì. They consume copious amounts of glutinous rice balls, so I am told. I can't blame them, if I was that cold, I'd want to eat copious amounts of glutinous rice balls.



But today, December 21st is not the earliest sunset of the year - that happened a couple of weeks ago. 

Nor is it the coldest day of the year. 

Gosh, if it is supposed to be the coldest day of the year - the rest of the year is going to be boiling hot. 

Even the cat hid behind the plant pots today.




And what has Stonehenge got to do with it all? What has Stonehenge got to do with Christmas for that matter?




As all the news is filled with Druids at Stonehenge, here's a photo I snapped earlier - devoid of Druids.



Bah Humbug, it was too darned hot 1 degree north today.




Some interesting sites with more information about the Solstice:

The winter solstice

Ten things about the solstice

Dongzhi

The Winter Solstice  (there's a great infographic in this article explaining about the equinoxes)

Stonehenge and the Winter Solstice  (in pictures)

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 5 days to go!

Tuesday 20th December, which can mean only one thing. It's that silly 5-4-3-2-1 countdown thing.

Oh, whoops, no it isn't, that's what they do at New Year, when no one is really quite sure what time it is actually. The only way is to turn on the TV, but then again, if you have a delay on your TV which tends to happen with HD TV, you will probably be late for the New Year. One advantage of not knowing what time it really is, means that if your camera doesn't work properly at the allotted time, you can always manufacture a replay and no one will be any the wiser. Believe me, we have done that ...

Five.

And so begins the mad dash.

But I only have two reindeer.

Why does Santa have reindeer? I mean, they don't have wings, unless there is some hidden drone-like engine in there and the antlers are the antennae?

Reindeer are found in the Arctic and can grow to be fairly large - 4 feet tall or well over a metre. They can weigh around 250lbs, or 113kg. They're pretty strong, being able to pull up to twice their weight. 

Well, that sort of makes sense, Santa is rather rotund. 

Santa was first mentioned as flying over the rooftops in 1812 by Washington Irving, but he didn't have any reindeer. And then an anonymous story appeared in New York in 1821, and there were the reindeer.

The one we really have to thank is Clement C Moore and his poem, The Night Before Christmas. All of a sudden, there were 8 reindeer! Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder and Blitzen. 

So, where was Rudolph all this while?

Probably not born, until Gene Autry recorded that rather annoying song, Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, or was it Montgomery Ward's department store in Chicago that gave birth to Rudolph?

Well, I only have two, and they've both got dodgy legs, but I do have some wild-looking glasses.

Bah flipping Humbug.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 6 days to go!

It's Monday, Monday 19th December. In less than a week, 6 days, it will all be over. We will all have eaten too much, forgotten to unwrap gifts carefully so I can reuse the wrapping paper next year, and realised that half of what we bought each other has just contributed to the clutter that we had decluttered earlier.

As I ponder over the ever-increasing commercialisation of Christmas and whether I really ought to cancel the present buying once and for all, it forced me to reflect upon the origins of exchanging gifts at this time of year.

I mean, yes, I know all about Saint Nicholas and the golden oranges. But not everyone is a poor old man in need of a dowry for all his daughters.

Yes, I know that St Nicholas was well known for his kindness and generosity, taking baskets of food and items to the needy, never asking for anything in return.

And that is just it.

Those gifts from St. Nick were for those in need. If you don't need something, then St Nick shouldn't be visiting you.

The controversial question arose. If we are not in need, then why are we temptingly drawn in by tear-jerking commercials and glitz each year? Unconsciously, we spend the bonus that we were given (or not if you work for yourself), that should probably have gone towards something we needed, or something we don't.

Unless of course, you are a dog ...

And yes, there are a number of other fantastic commercials to rival John Lewis, but they did it first, and if I was that dog, I would want a trampoline too.

Bah flipping Humbug.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 7 days to go!

Sunday 18th December.

Goodness me, we are at that point again. The end of term and a few days left before we all eat too much and suffocate under a mountain of wrapping paper, which could have been reused next year if only someone hadn't ripped it off the gifts. With my new no-need-to-programme iron, I could iron the paper flat and no one would ever know.

So today we made an attempt to get into the festive throes. Not that we were actually throwing anything around. Friends were coming over. Out came the monopoly board - that game that creates enemies. It needed a slight wipe down, not having seen the light of day for a couple of years. Nevertheless, the comment from my sons was that even in Monopoly Singapore is more expensive than any of the other sets. I suppose it was the $84 fairy lights that tipped the balance.

Expensive Singapore.

After lunch, I endeavoured to maintain a stance of Bah Humbugishness, but somehow, it was not quite working. I ended up being helpful, even nice. Although there was an ulterior motive. The Redmart delivery chap's van conked out. As he turned the engine over, 15 times, my basement filled with the pleasant odour of petrol fumes.

I offered him the jump leads and lifted the bonnet of my car to hook them up to the battery.

"Do you know where the battery is in the van?" he enquired.

"Uh, not really, but I'll look it up on the internet."

Battery finally located, I asked,

"OK, now, do you know how to jump start a car/van?"

"Uh, no," was the reply with a shake of the head.

Oh dear, yet another male who has no clue how a car works. I began to feel a tad concerned, visions returned to me when the last chap I helped managed to create sparks when he hit the jump leads together before he hooked them up to his car.

While I was pondering this possibility of fireworks at Christmas, the van's engine miraculously kicked into life.

A Christmas Miracle on Sixth Avenue.

The delivery chap smiled, said thank you, apologised for the inconvenience and went on his way. I was left holding the jump leads, not quite sure what had happened. Maybe the Toyota Hiace van felt sorry for the chap and did not want him embarrassed by some strange woman with a set of jump leads.

But more concerning for me was not that the chap was not a mechanic, but that basic car skills were lacking. I wondered if he could change a plug? I rather smugly tell my sons that I taught myself using a reference manual when I was 11 years old. My father was so surprised, he had to open the plug to check I had wired it correctly - which of course, I had.

At 4.30pm, putting jump leads and rewired plugs to one side, I partook of a glass of champagne. Not Prosecco as I had feared that this Christmas would be complete with, but Champagne made by a strange Widow called Cliquot. Widow's champagne. I suppose even widows have to be able to celebrate.

Bah Humbug was chased out of the window, replaced by bubbles, M&S Christmas Almond biscuits and over priced cherries  - now don't get me going on the stupid cost of cherries in thus country - now I am feeling Bah flipping Humbug, again ...

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 8 days to go!

Saturday 17th December.

Another one of those days when I vowed that my only going out would be for a walk and to tutor.

As luck, or fate, or whatever you like to call it, would have it, the iron conked out after lunch. I was not ironing my lunch, but clothes. I suppose I could have folded them and laid them flat underneath my mattress for a couple of hours, but that never works that well.

Taking my life in my hands, I sent off for another dash.

And then I heard them. Carol singers. I suppose it made a change from Christmas muzak. And then I listened.

It was as intelligible as the minions singing Christmas songs.

Which made me wonder, why on earth we sing Christmas songs. Christmas carols, I get. I understand. But why Christmas songs? And, why have we managed to conflate songs with carols?

Carols were sung well before Christianity took a hold. They were songs and dances, sung by pagans for mark each season of the year. Some of these customs still exist today in some of the hymns I used to sing at school: All things Bright and Beautiful and We Plough the Fields and Scatter during Harvest Festival time.

Carols were reserved for Christmas. It was drummed into my head that to sing these songs at any other time of the year was bad luck. Goodness knows where that one came from?

I could write more, but I am Bah flipping Humbug Christmas caroled out after my minions encounter.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 9 days to go!

Friday 16th December.

Second day of the home run. 10 - 9 - and the rest ...

And so, arose the question of why we put fairies on Christmas trees. And fairies that show their bums because there are not enough feathers to cover their backsides. Somehow, that reminiscence of childhood will remain with me forever.


In searching for why and where the tradition came from - I encountered a few rather inappropriate (for this family themed blog, at least), theories as to why there is a fairy on top of the tree. Amusing all the same.


One thought is that the original tradition was not a star, but and angel at the top of the tree, but somehow angels and fairies became blurred in the passage of time. And, besides, fairies are a lot smaller and lighter than a full sized angel - I mean could you imagine John Travolta dressed up as Michael, sitting on the top of your tree? 

Somehow, it makes more sense to put a fairy on top.

But if you want a child-friendly tale, with an ecologically friendly twist, then the story of the fairies in the woods and the queen of the fairies and the spiders' webs, is also quite convincing.

Now where did I put the other Bah flipping Humbug fairy?

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 10 days to go!

Thursday 15th December. And a quick dash to the bookshop.

Why was it so busy?

Ah, yes, I went on the first day of 20% off for members and 10% off for non-members. A ruse to charge more during the year, and then charge a more reasonable price for books leading up to the season when most people purchase books that will sit on shelves and never be read.

Off I dashed. Rather like Santa's reindeer - only, I was dashing through the carpark trying to find a parking space.

Too many people out today. It took me 15 minutes to find a space.

And then I was dashing up the escalators, trying to dodge the people who refuse to stand on the correct side.

Finally, I found myself dashing around the bookstore. It's sort of a circular bookstore, laid out around a central set of escalators, so the dashing was definitely circular. It brought to mind a corporate ski holiday in Park City, Utah, many moons ago. The company I was visiting arranged a reindeer sleigh ride, complete with sleigh bells.

It was dark. The reindeer walked us around in a figure of eight - two circles. It seemed like we'd covered a lot of ground. Perhaps we had, but we hadn't gone very far.

So, there I was, in the middle of a bookstore in Singapore - Kinokinuya - dashing around, trying to find where they'd moved all the sections.

Why on earth do stores move things around?

It can only be to tourture customers, or make you find things you suddenly think you need, but didn't need when you first walked in.

Bah flipping Humbug, it's a good job my overspend was on books ...

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 11 days to go!

Wednesday 14th December.

On the subject of fake trees - I discovered there is quite an internet industry, providing the latest and greatest advice on how to achieve the perfect fake tree.

How has Christmas become so commercialised that now there are websites dedicated to helping you find your perfect fake tree?

Can no one think for themselves anymore? Why would I want my tree to look like anyone else's, or for that matter, like it came out of a magazine. My tree and the manner in which I choose to decorate it, belongs to me ... and the cats ...


Bah Humbug.



A few scary sites:

How to choose fake trees

Christmas Tree Buyers Guide

Select the right Christmas tree size

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 12 days to go!

Tuesday 13th December. This was the day my tree got called small. Not just small, but SO small.

This was going to give me sleepless nights. I had invested in a fake tree. Unlike fake news, there is actually some substance to a fake tree. It exists. Only this one, the one I had purchased online, thinking that I had achieved something rather clever, was not quite how it looked. So the element of fake, I suppose, permeates even Christmas trees.

Now, back to whether my tree was small, so small or just plain, too small. I fear the latter.

Unbeknown to me, there is a formula for determining the size of a tree proportionate to the room. It involves height, and a minimum depth. No one considers that there might be tall skinny trees. All trees, as they get taller, they widen proportionally. Really?

According to the websites, touting the benefits of needle-free trees - none of which include my Alt-stick-tree - the top of the tree should be 1.5-0.5 ft from the ceiling. Whoops.

According to the website: How to Decorate, my old 7ft tree, stuffed on the top shelf in the basement storeroom, is closer to the correct size for the room/house. Although I hasten to add, I did not get the masking tape out and measure down 1.5ft from the ceiling.

Who in their right mind does that?

But the trouble with my old tree is that it is old. Gosh, am I becoming more consumerist in wanting new all the time? Last time I used it, it made me itch. And, the fake needles fell off. So much for a needle-free Christmas.


Next, I considered the real tree that I had decadently purchased last year. Decadent, as while they grow quickly, fir trees do little to combat global warming, the needles are not wide enough to photosynthesise in a manner that puts back more oxygen into the atmosphere.

The tree did shed some of its needles, but not so many that it made such a huge difference, compared to the old 7ft tree, The needle-free Christmas argument was waning.

The benefits of a fake tree are that you can recycle it, year after year - or for a number of years before it makes you itch and the fake needles do fall off.

The real tree needs to be disposed of. Far East Flora where I purchased the tree last year, offer a recycling service. However, rather than recycling the tree for something useful, I had to pay for it to be used to make electricity.

So much for being eco-friendly with my real tree.

The real tree was 6ft. So, essentially, if I follow the How to Decorate website, it was too short. Nevertheless, for the floor space, it was perfect.

I am beginning to sound like a busy-mama-consumer website for purchasing Christmas trees. My Bah Humbug is missing.

Not for long.

I was too busy this year to stop and wander around the plant place to purchase another not-hugely-needle-dropping tree that would be made into firewood in early January. I purchased online. Saved me time, petrol and aggro.

I hummed, and hah'd about how tall my tree should be. It could not be 7ft. I did not want it making me itch again. 6ft seemed a good size, so I ordered the 5ft one. I am not sure why, but I did. Maybe I had austerity carols ringing in my ears? Maybe reading A Christmas Carol with my students had set me down the slippery slope of not giving a boiled sweet about Christmas. Or maybe I simply wanted a slightly less obtrusive tree?


And that, is why my 5ft tree is on a stand, to make it appear 6ft when it is not.

Although, somehow, it still did not fool my Kindergarten pupil. She knew it was short.

Bah flipping Humbug to that.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 13 days to go!

Monday 12th December.

One of those days when I had to use my brain. My assignment was due in by noon, UK time. No time for Christmas today.

What I did need to do, however, was to chase up on my oven that was not working, but should have been working. Still at the back of my mind was that niggling feeling that we might just be ordering pizza for lunch on Christmas Day.

Not much to say today, so I shall post a photograph of Santa decorating a tree that is decidedly miniature, next to an old telephone, that is fake.

Lots of fake around this year.

Bah flipping fake Humbug ...

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 14 days to go!

Sunday 11th December.

The second Sunday in Advent. Shouldn't I have stirred the Christmas pudding by now?

For an insight into Christmas Pudding, here's something I wrote earlier.

Incidentally, I have not seen any Christmas puddings in the supermarket this year. Maybe no-one wants to eat pudding. Luckily, I know somewhere that will sell them. But, I am not venturing there on a Sunday.

Unlike many European cities and the UK, Singapore is a thriving centre of commerce on a Sunday. It is the day when everyone practises the national sport - window shopping. Not window-shopping in a purposeful manner. Not window-shopping at a pace that allows me to either overtake or, at least, remain at a safe distance.

No, this is window shopping where I trip over everyone around me, in my attempt to conclude my actual shopping.

Sadly for me, this Sunday necessitated a venture into the super expensive expat shopping mall to purchase some printer toner. It was convenient. I was on the way home from tutoring, and the expensive mall was sitting there, beckoning me in all its consumeristic glitz.

Only hiccup - the shop didn't have the toner in stock. Silly me, I should have resorted to ordering online - free next day delivery.

While I was there, I made an attempt to avoid the fairy lights that require a second mortgage to purchase, I avoided the French bakery that even a Parisian would baulk at. I pretty much avoided everything that involved spending money.

But then, I became distracted. I tried to walk past the pop up Christmas shop. But like the kids that followed the Pied Piper of Hamelin, I was lured, lured into a cavernous area of Christmas tut. Tut that King Tut would have no doubt rejected, looking at the price tags. Really?

And for those of you, unfamiliar with the Pied Piper of Hamelin, by Robert Browning ...

I know we have an obligation to pay more, so that workers making these pagan baubles earn a decent wage. But, I have to ask myself, how much of this really goes to them, and how much is lining the pockets of purveyors of this artificial finery?

Goodness, day 11 of December and I am developing extreme Bah Humbugedness.

Now, where are the Christmas puddings?

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 15 days to go!

Saturday 10th December. Another weekend in December. And I have an assignment to submit on Monday. That rules out any Christmas shopping. But then, who wants to go Christmas shopping at the weekend?

No, after tutoring, I hurried home ...

I was excited. My oven saga was coming to a close.

I was going to use the repaired oven for the first time this evening!

I had to get home and prepare for the momentous, almost historic occasion. I would have an oven for Christmas afterall.

The moment of truth arrived. I switched the programme on to number 4, stood back and admired the fact my oven was now working.

Meanwhile, I prepared the meal.

Out of the corner of my eye, the oven light flashed, or did it twinkle in unison with the fairy lights on my Alt-tree? Whatever, this was exciting stuff. My oven was on its test drive for Christmas.

As with all test drives, there are hiccups.

After 30 minutes, the oven was still barely warm. Something was not quite right. After an hour, the oven was at 170 degrees. Hardly hot enough for my dish and oven french fries.

The rain was teeming down outside, so no recourse to the barbeque. But there's an idea for roasting, if I can find the twirly whirly thing that spit roasts meat.

Frustrated, we grilled the meat and grilled the french fries. It was an interesting experience.

I wrote an email to the supplier. Thank goodness I had not paid them. There is always a purpose in holding back on payment, until someone comes after you with a huge stick or something ...

Bah flipping Humbug. The picture in my mind of a succulent roast turkey, roast potatoes and parsnips grew hazy.

No use calling anyone to "á table!" when there's nothing to eat. This is worse than Bob Cratchit's house.

How am I going to cook for Christmas now?

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 16 days to go!

Friday 9th December. An early morning respite in my tutoring and studying schedule. I took advantage of the strange weather - it is uncommonly hot for this time of year - and set off on my regular, morning walk. As usual, there was the dog poo to dodge, the hole under the kerb drains, and cars.

I was excited this morning. After five months of frustration with a malfunctioning oven, the technician was finally coming to replace the PCB. Why oven's need PCBs, beats me, but I suppose, we live in the internet of everything.

Five months?

Yes, five months. This is Singapore. Distributors pride themselves in taking a brand, but forget that the brand also needs to be maintained. No spare parts. They had to be shipped in. Shipped in from Turkey - not the big bird, but the country. Although according to Google Translate, Turkey in French, is Les Pays de Dinde. Really?.

Whatever, it was being shipping, but only, only when the container was full.

For five months, I was unable to roast anything, although sitting outside, I often found myself roasting. For five months, I was unable to bake a cake, and if I did venture down the route of trying it out - just in case - it would take 2 hours to cook and the cake was raw in the middle. Not pleasant.

What do you make of that, Jamie Oliver??

The appointment was scheduled for between 10am-11.30am. Just enough time for me to make sure that the oven was in working order before heading out to tutor.

I was excited, I would have a working oven, ready for Christmas. I never thought I would find myself over the moon about an oven, but the moon was waiting there, and there was a way over it. Only a few more hours of waiting.



10am passed. 10.30am came and went. 11am sneaked around the corner.  11.30am loomed. I had to leave. So much for my oven repair.

The oven did finally get repaired - after 12 noon. I am not sure what time zone they were on, but definitely not in mine. And what happened to politeness when someone is busy in a meeting or teaching?

Six missed calls.

They remained missed, I was feeling Scrooge-like tendencies creeping.


My incredulity was topped off, when rather than leaving me an invoice to pay, they asked the lady who helps out, to take a photograph of the works order.

Now I was feeling extra Bah flipping Humbug, and I ignored it. A photograph is not an invoice.

I decided that oven cooking would take place on Saturday. Then I would have more time to savour the delight.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 17 days to go!

Thursday 8th December.

Where did the last week go? Now I have to embark on the second week before Christmas.

Somehow, the phrase, "the second week before Christmas" does not quite have the ring of, "the night before Christmas". It does not have a ring at all. Other than the ring of cash registers.

So far, I have avoided the shops. I have ordered online - how did I manage without the internet?

But, sometimes, there is no choice.

Out into the tropical heat I ventured, shorts and t-shirt - always feels strange to me that I should be cold, but I am not. I suppose I could increase the intensity of the aircon when I get home. Not a bad idea, as Christmas shopping in Singapore, seems to start earlier and earlier. As a friend who was visiting from India remarked, "I wondered what planet I had wandered on to."

There were some items I needed and had not found anything suitable online. Last year I had buried the Christmas door wreath after the red berries died my hands red. I had visions of waking in the middle of the night, rubbing my hands and mumbling, "out, out, damned spot.". For weeks afterwards, I looked out of my window, wondering whether the rain-foresty jungle trees opposite, would start marching across the road.

Luckily, no such thing occurred, which is just as well.

And, so, I found myself in an expensive expat shopping mall, staring at the florist's shop. I avoided eye gaze with the staff, I did not want to engage in conversation. My Scroogeness was in vast supply.

I espied one, simple, just twigs, leaves and red berries. No glitter, no cones, no anything else. In fact, it was so red, that it was more luminescent than old Rudolph's nose. That'll shock the neighbours.

Rather chuffed with my over-priced purchase, I meandered through the rest of the mall. Little artisanal and creative stores had set themselves up, or rather been set up by budding entrepreneurs, all vying to make a killing over the Christmas period.

Ah, ha, thought I, some new Christmas lights, and little lights, just like those tiny Ikea jobbies that I bought for my Alt-tree. Before I could prevent myself, my hand reached for a box. Nonchalantly turning it over in my hand, I nearly choked. $84.

How can you charge $84 for a few wires and some LED lights? How can you charge that when Ikea only charged me $14.90? I had to then ponder if Ikea was using the illegal method of child labour, which I somehow doubted, they are Swedish after all. Then it struck me - I was in a glitzy over-priced expat shopping mall. Of course, lights would cost $84 or even $95 and some of them even more. My eyes watered. I coughed a little, picked up another box, pretended to weigh one against the other and then shook my head.


Face saved, I decided the best option was to slink away and be thankful I had Bah flipping Humbug, gone to the home of flatpack earlier.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 18 days to go!

Wednesday, 7th December. What? I've just missed a whole week of December? And still, no Christmas cards written. This is rather embarrassing, as I have not even made new ones this year. So, I shall have to climb up into my cupboard-that-holds-things-I-seldom-need,-but-need-anyway, and extract the box of Christmas stuff.

Too bad, if I send the same card design to someone for a second year. At least it demonstrates consistency on my part, and a modicum of austerity - along the lines of no new designs, no extra monetary outlay, using up stock from already written-off capital.

So, the choice is ...

Christmas letters:

Complete with an alphabet of rhyme - what more could you want for Christmas?

The Twelve Veg of Christmas:

That one comes complete with a veggie rhyme, set to a well-known Christmas Song. What could be healthier than that?

Eric and Bert, in the snow:

And not a volcanic eruption in sight ... sort of ...

Or an angel looking cute:

I fear, though, family reprisals, if I send them any of these again.

Bah flipping Humbug, now I shall have to go out and purchase cards ....

Of course, it is a tad late now, but maybe for next year. All the cards are available on my Etsy store.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 19 days to go!

Tuesday 6th December. And, I still haven't written a single Christmas card.

I think I must have felt extremely grumpy this morning. I lined up Are You Grumpy Santa? to read with my primary student in the afternoon.

She was not overly impressed.

She had not chosen this book last week. But then again, I believe I omitted to give her the option.

So, she was not overly impressed, until she opened the book and saw Santa fall out of bed, have a cold shower, the elves shrink his best Santa suit in the dryer - so he had to wear the itchy woolly one, and then his reindeer got snowed under.

The mood changed.

Amazing how the excitement and magic of Christmas permeate young children and infects adults. I think I had forgotten, what with my Austerity- and Alt-Christmas trees, and two teenage boys.


Nevertheless, I could not quite get the image of an itchy, woollen Santa suit out of my head for the rest of the day, and became sympathetically Bah flipping Humbug itchy myself.

Think I need some more exercise.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 20 days to go!

Monday, 5th December - Austerity Star Date - Go to Ikea for some Scandinavian therapy.

If the truth be known, I was beginning to find myself feeling a little nostalgic for those Christmases when the house was filled with decorations and lights, and the fat feathered fairy that sat on top of the tiny fake tree that my mother liked to place on the table in the hallway. My face used to flush tomato-red when I caught sight of her bare butt. The feathers were not very efficient at covering her modesty.

On the spur of the moment, I filled a water bottle, picked up my car keys and took my life in my hands - I was going to that winter wonderland of flat-packed furniture, Ikea.

I was not sure quite what for, though. Gosh, maybe I was becoming engulfed by the consumerism that I was so desperately attempting to humbug?

After speeding through the meandering walkways of the store, which is obviously trying to make you buy more, by packing more into a smaller space. I whirl-winded along the woodland paths that entice unsuspecting customers to the gingerbread house. I found some solar energy lights - that'll save the planet, and a set of tree lights that was one-sixth the price of lights I had seen in Tanglin Mall. More about The Great Christmas Fairy Light Rip Off in a future blog ...

Then I found what I was looking for - white willow sticks. Perfect for my pagan tree corner. Now all I needed were some tiny lights, and some Nordic Christmas baubles, and I would have an alternative tree - the Alt-Christmas Tree - with no needle shredding. I had the have an alternative tree, after all, this is a Christmas of trends, started with my austerity tree.

Tiny, almost inconspicuously wired, battery operated fairy lights were the answer, which proved their novelty by turning themselves off after a certain length of time. I reckon they gave up when no one was watching. Well, at least that saves on the battery purchase.



With my purchases in hand, or in a couple of large reusable bags, I headed home to establish my Alt-Christmas corner, feeling rather Bah flipping Humbugly pleased with myself.

Bah Humbug - It's December again! 21 days to go!

Oh goodness, it's Sunday. I have the tedious task of adorning the tree with trinkets and baubles.

"Ah, but ..." the sneaky little Bah Humbug fairy whispers in my ear, "it's an austerity tree, isn't it?"

"What's that got to do with whether it snows or not this year?" I think I must have been having a conversation with myself.

"Well, it's hardly going to snow in Singapore, now, is it?" chided the Bah Humbug winged thing.

"It might do, if you go to look at the lights at Tanglin Mall." I suggested to myself. Then, I remembered, quite proudly, that in all the years I have lived in Singapore, I have never bothered to venture under the Christmas decorations at Tanglin Mall, with the hope of being soaked in sticky, foamy bubbles.

And now my boys are too old to want to associate themselves with anything like that.

Goodness me, what have I raised?

"Back to the point at hand," grumbled the Bah Humbug bug. Definitely a bug, only a bug would keep reminding me to rummage around in the bomb shelter, hope I didn't discover a dead cockroad, and carry up boxes of Christmas decorations that had amassed over the years.

"Now that's a point for austerity," I ventured.

The bug shook its head, "no one will buy second hand Christmas ornaments - don't kid yourself."

I resigned myself to selecting decorations that were befitting a short, austerity tree.


I think I managed to pull off a fairly decent feat of decorating - using up almost as many trinkets on the tree as a normal year.

Well, OK, not a normal year.

But a year when I have had a taller and wider tree (probably been eating too many mince pies).



So, Miss Nit-picky Bah Humbug Fairy, you can go and Bah-flipping-Humbug off.

Bah Humbug! - It's December AGAIN - 22 more days to go

Twenty-two days to go. No choice. I have to put the Christmas tree up.

I have put it off long enough.

The box was small, and it felt rather lightweight. What had I ordered? I knew I should have ordered the 6ft tree. But then, it might have been really wide. The five foot one, from the box, looks like it might have been subject to some austerity cuts. I suppose I did rather propose a Scrooge-led Christmas.

Having erected the tree,  I stood back to admire it. My, was it short.

Nothing for it.

I would have to cheat. So out came the leather packing case. Out came a large slab of cardboard. Out came a Christmas-looking table cloth. Suddenly the tree was a foot taller. I had a 6ft Christmas tree for the price of a 5ft. Definitely in keeping with getting more for less.

Next the lights. I refuse to purchase new lights, unless of course all of them are liable to electrocute me. This year, only one set decided to embark on some mad random frenzy and take no notice of how many times I pushed the stupid button.

I wondered whether Scrooge would have thrown them out or bypassed the control box. Now that's an idea.

The tree being someone smaller than I had anticipated, only required two strands of fairy lights this year - definitely an austerity tree.

So, there we are - savings all round.

Smaller tree = less capital outlay
Smaller tree = fewer branches = less fairy lights = less opex.



I could go into business, offering Austerity Christmas Decorating services.

The only downside with that - I suspect, given that this involves austerity, I am not sure how many paying customers I would actually attract.

And so, once again, before I decorate the tree, I am reduced to a glum Bah, flipping, Humbug.

Bah Humbug! - It's December - AGAIN! 23 Days to go

And so we enter the second day of Advent.

I managed to go for a walk today. And I avoided the Christmas Muzak. However, I did not avoid having a fight with a load of tinsel that was strewn over the floor outside a building. The debate was whether to gather it up and do something with it, or mutter something about surplus population and waste of money. I picked it up and placed it out of the way of trampling feet.

Rather Christmas spirited of me.

Which reminds me, if the price of Champagne in the supermarkets insists on being so stupidly expensive, then it will be a Prosecco Christmas. But oh, yes, didn't Boris mention something about more expensive Prosecco? Or was that in the UK? Well, whatever, I think it will have to be a Scrooge-led Christmas this year.

Bubbles out of the way, I prepared Stave 3 of Charles Dicken's masterpiece - A Christmas Carol to work on with my Friday afternoon pupil. There is a tenuous link in here somewhere about the tinsel and surplus population.

Today is going to be the Ghost of Christmas Present. Except he doesn't bring any presents, just want and ignorance.

And why wasn't this version available when I asked my pupil to watch the movie?

Oh, Bah, flipping Humbug. Only two days down and how many more to go?

Bah Humbug - It's December Again - 24 Days to go

Yet another Christmas, yet another month of having to turn the music up and risk damaging my ears so I can avoid damaging them from too much cheesy Christmas music.

I swear Christmas music is going from bad to worse. We're now subjected to muzak versions of Christmas songs, as if we're stuck in some elevator in an old Blues Brother's film.

Well, I suppose it is a slight change from Elton John, ABBA and The Carpenters that seems to permeate the supermarket aisles.

I haven't managed to get my head around putting up the Christmas tree yet. I had no time this year, so I purchased one online. It arrived in a box. But it looks rather midget to me. 

And here is a link to some of the painful stuff I am trying to protect my ears from ...

Bah flipping Humbug to everyone!