Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Wednesday, 14 December 2016
No two children are alike
Sincere apologies to anyone who caught my brief and bleak post about the children who will not be celebrating Christmas which I took down last night. As people keep saying, there is not much we can do about it and wallowing in angst doesn't really help anyone.
When I was a kid, I lost all primal fear on Christmas night. I would wander out into the dark wood by our house, safe in the knowledge that no harm could possibly come to me on this night of all nights. The world was wrapped in a warm and benign blanket, or two feet of cotton-wool snow on a good year.
Starlight is reflected from the snow in all directions on a moonless night, and whichever way you turn, your shadow is always right there in front of you. The intricate diffraction of each crystal flake makes sure of that.
Someone told me when I was young, that - out of all the countless trillions of individual snowflakes, no two are alike. I went outside into the snow and allowed a couple of falling flakes to settle side by side on my gloved hand, then examined them through a glass before they quickly melted. They were absolutely identical.
Nobody believed me when I went back inside and told them, but adults are so used to telling lies about Christmas to children, that they must have thought I was making it up.