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

There's no such thing as a free lunch ...

But, if you spend $10 in the supermarket down the road today, you get a free Santa sock and a box of ice lollies that probably won't sell for some reason or another.

'Ooo, how cute, is it for free?' I overhead someone at the cashier. 

Well, it might be cute, but, like the devil horns and cloth red noses that are for the pleasure of decorating your car these socks are not something I would necessarily part with coins for.

I jokingly told the shop assistant that it was my lucky day - all this free stuff. All this free stuff, and at Christmas. 

Now, where on earth did the idea of leaving a smelly sock tied to a mantlepiece originate?

This is the most popular myth:

Once, many years ago, in a country where the winter always brings snow and ice and the summer brings crisp and clear blue skies, there lived a poor widower. He was a hardworking man who missed his dear wife. His one, or rather three loves, were his three beautiful daughters.  Every morning before he left to look for work in the village, he thanked the saints for delivering him three such dutiful and kind young women.

Every evening, when he returned from the village, he lamented the fact that he hardly had enough money to make ends meet from day to day, and certainly not enough money for a dowry for his three daughters. 

Every day and every night the poor widower continued to worry about his three gentle daughters and what would become of them. Without a dowry, no one would want to marry them. Many of the villagers offered the poor widower help. But the man was proud and refused their help.

Then one night, in December, St. Nicholas visited the tiny remote village where the poor widower lived. The villagers related the tale of the poor widower and his beautiful daughters. So, that night, when the poor widower was fast asleep and the three daughters were tucked up and dreaming in their beds, St. Nicholas climbed down the chimney into their home. He was careful not to disturb anything. 

He noticed the girls had left their cleanly laundered red stockings hanging near the fireplace to dry. So, digging deep into his sack, St. Nicholas pulled out three golden orbs and placed one in each stocking.

The next morning, when the girls awoke, they were surprised and overjoyed to find the rich gifts and their father never worried again as his daughters were guaranteed a good marriage.

Obviously, today, unless you belong to the mega rich, you are not going to find a golden orb in your Christmas stocking. But you never know, you might find an orange, or something else ...

So, there we are, the legend behind why we hang smelly socks out for Santa. I wonder if he carries a clothes peg with him, just in case someone had sweaty feet.

And, so with that legend put to bed, I began to wonder what other luck might befall my day. 

What was apparent this afternoon, while battling unconscious Christmas frenzied shoppers was how ridiculously commercial this time of year has become. There is no goodwill in a supermarket, only greedy shoppers and people insisting on following some rule they've created in the chambers of their minds.

And the only bells on Christmas day I could hear were those of the cash registers tinkling through the throngs of screaming children.

A real Bah Humbug afternoon to you all.

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/the-legend-of-the-christmas-stocking-160854441/?no-ist
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_stocking
http://www.wikihow.com/Fill-a-Christmas-Stocking

Bah Humbug. It's December again - 15 days to Christmas

Bah Humbug, it's 10th December. 

If it's 10th December, that means there are only 15 more days to go, or I suppose 14 before the eve of the day itself.

I still have a pile of Christmas cards I have not sent out as I ran out of stamps and I hate the post office at Christmas. Actually, I hate the post office most of the time. Anything that involves a queue to me seems entirely pointless and a waste of good time.

So instead I went out to have coffee with a friend. She needed some milk, and some mince pies, so I popped into the supermarket to buy some. Simple enough task.

Simple was the word. I popped to a fabulous bakery named Simply Bread. However, their kitchens are still under renovation, so they don't have any bread, or cakes, or in fact anything that has to be baked. Perhaps they should temporarily rename themselves to Simply.

I had not choice but to try the other bakery, that is not so good, but they did have mince pies. Until the woman in front of me purchased every single one. OK not every one, but all the traditional mince pies. 'You could have blueberry mince pies,' suggested the apathetic serving staff.

'Blueberry mince pies?'

'Blueberry mince pies?'

Is this some other Americanism that has crept into an age old tradition? since when did mince pies have blueberries in them?

I declined and resorted to the supermarket. I still had to purchase milk.

Joy to the world, or rather Boney M greeted me. Why is it that at the same time every year, we are subjected to Wizard, Boney M, Band Aid, McCartney and Wham as we stroll the even narrower aisles than usual because they've decided to build precarious castles of food on offer, that is probably still 20% more expensive than on a normal day?

As if the assault to my ears was not enough, everyone kept walking in my way or standing in the aisle in such a manner that it would be impossible to pass unless of course you were a large elephant and then you probably wouldn't care.

And then, and I feel a hyperbole coming, I had to wait a million years at the cashier because someone wanted to pay with gift tokens and someone else wanted to purchase a gift token and wanted an envelope for it.

All I wanted was a litre of semi-skimmed milk and six mince pies!

So a fifteen minute journey took me nearly an hour.

I rest my case, all that queueing, turned out to be a waste of my time because someone else was not being efficient with theirs.


To add icing to the Christmas cake, they were digging up the road outside my friend's house when I arrived.


I reckon it was all to do with the alignment of the stars, and that rather large one that will be settling down in 15 days time.

Meanwhile,  the cup of coffee from the french press was extremely welcome.


BAH HUMBUG

Why can't everyone go home and let me shop in peace?

Incidentally queueing can be spelt without the e but with the extra e is best, after all, what fun having a word with 5 consecutive vowels!