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

I am digressing in a round about way ...

I hate this time of year because of the traffic. If I go out, I am not going out for the fun of it. I am going out because I need to. I am not going out to shop, unless I really have to. I have taken to ordering most of my needs online. Much more civilised, and I do not have to negotiate supermarket shelf window shoppers. 

And, so, the act of going out, involves a purpose. The purpose of tutoring. With extra traffic on the road, my journey time is extended - what a waste of my time. With extra traffic on the road, my car, although efficiently blue, is contributing to my carbon footprint. I would take the bus, but then I would need three times the normal travelling time at the very least. So forget that option.

With extra traffic on the road, I end up eating half a bag of Marks & Spencer midget gems. Not because I like them, but because they remind me of my childhood and they were on offer the other day. 

My poor teeth. My poor digestion. I shall have to go on a sugar-free diet now after being so disgusting. This is what traffic does. It makes me eat half a bag of sugar!

OK, so I did walk into a shop, but that was only because it was on my way home from somewhere else. Stupid thing to do as I then spent nearly an hour in traffic for a journey that should have only taken me 10-15 minutes maximum.

So, another reason to hate Christmas.

My son would be proud.

And, in this way, I reach my digression. Orangutans and penguins. Both impacted by our insatiable appetite for carbon based energy. 

Orangutans choke in the peatbog fires and penguins will probably have no where to live one of these days.

Maybe we should introduce the two? Just as I have done - after all, Christmas is supposed to be about bringing people together.

Bah Humbug.

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

Irreverant Christmas decorations

Living in a household of boys, - (even my cats are male, although they are at both ends of the testosterone scale) - means that there is no fairy atop the Christmas tree - not even a Fairy Liquid bottle - that would be too frou-frou, like the fat, feather adorned fairy of my childhood.

In fact, it is amazing there is a tree at all. The whole idea of Christmas is simply too commercial and too emotional.

This year, I didn't even buy discounted advent calendars. Mostly because all that were left were Bob the Builder and a rather tacky Transformers set. I just could not bring myself to part with my cash. Instead, they can choose to buy their own chocolate, or save up for a game. I suppose it helps to cut down on the Oxy-5 spot cream.

Nevertheless, there has to be an element of cheery laughter and a whisp of tongue in cheek humour associated with any Christmas - well, any Christmas in our house.

So, over the years, I have decided to create irreverant Christmas montages. A sort of relief to the clichéd nativity scene that is a construct of conjecture.

This year features a decapitated teddy on top of a bag of now-lost-its-smell potpurri, topplying snowman giving a Halo or some other posable game character, a kick up the butt.

I hate to think what might happen when the toys come alive at night.

Last year, we featured Santa - who looked like he was in a rush - ladened down with gifts, being show a Christmas cook book with a roast turkey on the cover, by a Penguin. I thought it was rather fitting as it carried on the John Lewis theme: roast a penguin.

I suppose now, I need to create a second montage for the moon. Maybe I will use some cheese and crackers, afterall, that is what the man in or on the moon eats, isn't it?

Bah Humbug. I wonder what roasted penguin tastes like?