I blame the children

I was going to go back to yesterday's post and take it down because I lost my sense of humour - again. Then I re-read it and re-read the comments and decided not to. Don't worry though, you are going to have a break from me for a few days and by the time I come back I may feel a bit more positive about things. Maybe not. It will take a bit more than a week to sort this shit out, and right now even a day is a long time in British politics.

For the first time in its 1000 year history, a British government has been charged with holding Parliament in contempt by withholding vital information which should have been openly displayed for Parliament to consider. No wonder they are refusing to rubber-stamp documents on demand from the Prime Minister. They are not allowed to see what it is they are agreeing to in any detail.

Anyway, my life is planned out until the New Year. When I return I will spend the week before Christmas sitting in the warm and making drawings for a Spring project. I may pop out to my workshop to see if it is still there, but that will be a pleasure.

I spent years living on my own and most of them were avoiding Christmas, as far as that is possible. My sisters spent the first five of them asking me round for the 25th, but I always declined the offers. Friends took pity on me and - thinking I would be lonely - invited me to theirs, but I declined those offers too. I was never lonely, just alone.

I didn't take it as far as one mason friend of mine though. I once saw him high on a roof on Christmas Day, rebuilding a chimney with the house owners sitting down to lunch with their families inside, trying to pretend he wasn't up there.

Then I inherited an only child who - having been deprived of lavish Christmasses by her trendy and self-conscious parents - decided to make up for it in adulthood. Massive trees, gaudy decorations, turkeys, the lot. Soon, the first of two grandchildren arrived and the traditions began all over again. That was 25 years ago.

Within about 7 years, we were taking the youngest to see the first Harry Potter film and I was hooked. I was actually more hooked than he was. There was even snow on the ground outside the cinema and it was but a few days until the big day itself. The magic returned for just long enough for me to suspend disbelief for the sake of escapism, and it stayed for long enough not to be dispelled by Disney studios for the sake of even more money for Ms Rowling. God bless her for keeping it English. Harry Potter gently prised Christmas from the hands of Charles Dickens and brought it into the 20th century. There is lots of Christmas to go around - some say too much - so you can still have a bit of Dickens if you want it.

When the kids turned adult, I thought they may want to tone it down a bit, but they now talk of 'tradition' and make plans excitedly. At some point quite soon, it will begin all over again.