Bill Linnane: It wouldn't be Christmas without the dreaded 'winter lurgy'
It’s Christmas. Not that pre-Christmas period that starts anywhere between late August and early December, but full-throated, horrible, wonderful Christmas. You can tell this because everyone is sick. I am sick, you are sick, my wife and kids are all sick. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I met someone who wasn’t profoundly unwell with some sort of bug and/or virus.
If I did meet someone who was even vaguely healthy, I think I would most likely try to siphon off a pint or two of their delicious healthy blood to boost myself and get through the last few weeks of the year. But that is unlikely to happen because we are all in the same rotten boat – sick from burning the candle at both ends, chasing in and out of pubs, eating too much rich food, trying to clear the decks at work, the final madcap dash for that Christmas Eve finish line, when you can just sit back, take a deep breath, then cough until you crack a rib.
It’s hard to know what makes Christmas such an assault on our well-being – it’s meant to be the most wonderful time of the year, but in reality it sees your immune system playing an extended game of pass the pathogen from head to arse – one minute it’s a sinus infection, next minute it’s the norovirus. And you can’t stop, or slow down, because it is Christmas, so you chug your coffee, throw down some Neurofen and grind it out, flailing about Debenhams with your deathly pallor and damp brow, shaking hands with everyone you meet so you can exchange bugs and keep this rancid roulette going.
What makes our full collapse all the more tragic is that we were prepared this year. Thanks to the miracle of online shopping, everything was purchased and delivered in discreet cardboard boxes in the last few weeks. No late-night dashes to Smyths and subsequent smuggling of toys into the house for us. We were going to be that smug family who kept asking everyone if they had everything got yet, practically gagging with anticipation as we waited for the reciprocal question. Well yes, we do have everything done and we got great value too because we shopped early and are therefore better than you.
We are in the no man’s land between a younger two who believe 100pc in the magic of Santa and an older two who no longer believe in anything, including their parents. The older ones are fine – you simply ask what they want, they tell you and you say, no, that’s too expensive, not that, not that, and so on until they settle for something you can pick up on Black Friday.
The younger ones take a bit more work, as they want every single thing they see on TV – popping dog toy, buckets of slime, non-functioning magic sets, they want them all. So you whittle away, saying that you don’t think Santa would have room in his sleigh for something so large, or that other kids might prefer that, or just say no, that looks like garbage and you’re not asking Santa for it. It’s all about manipulation, subliminal messaging, and occasional invoking of the naughty list.
I find myself comparing my own childhood Christmases and I baulk at the amount kids get now. Far worse than the sheer volume of gifts is the fact that so many of them end up going to charity a few months later, sometimes unopened. My kids are like any other, and that old cliché about kids spending more time playing with the box than the gift is completely accurate.
Over the last three months, I have disposed of 30pc of their toys, but it was a decrepit cardboard box that the cooker came in which caused the most consternation – you can’t get rid of that, it’s our camp, while another said it was a castle, and another said it was jail. If I gave them all a giant cardboard box and a torch each, I think they would be happiest.
But we have the gifts, we have the giant tree, and we are trying hard to give them the Christmas that we think they want. So the countdown is on, the stage is set and we are nearly there – almost completely out of energy, almost out of money, out of attic space.
Stay strong, brothers and sisters – wash down that Sudafed with a Red Bull, for the finish line is in sight; and it’s almost that most wonderful time of the year, the period when Christmas is over for another year.
Source: Read Full Article