Hi.
Merry Christmas and all that. I like Christmas. It means
different things to different people. To some, a religious festival I think
it’d be sacrilege to suggest otherwise (‘er, yes, Joe, darling, it was an
angel …’ said The Virgin Mary.)
To others, like me – it’s a celebration of winter, and times
gone by. I believe that now – and I’ll tread carefully around this (sorry ‘m a
wheelchair user, wheel … skirt?) but in a UK where we have … people who own all
night shops and money laundering barbers, and park on the pavement. ( NB To not
come across as a Daily Mail writer my gran is Jamaican – and for the sake of
argument had a job and didn’t sit watching Real Housewives of New Jersey yet
somehow can’t say ‘hello, how are you?’)
For new readers, I’m not normally this political but, hear
me out. Christmas has lost it’s religious meaning. (Look ‘pon Mariah, would she
be allowed in for Midnight Mass like that?)
I’d say Christmas is a time for family. For some that’s a
grannie who hates everything, for others, it’s a big fallout where it makes
what’s going on overseas look like CBeebies. For some, it’s a college or
school.
Right now, for me, it’s both. I lost a friend fairly
recently, which is a sh (teachers read this) time for all my friends, me
especially – I wasn’t his best – but I was his first. My friends are my family.
As are both colleges I attend.
In one I had a disco. My god it was fun. I love a boogie. It
was proper to. Macarena (where everyone ends up facing a different direction)
and proper DJ’s who rose the roof.
In the other, there’s a goth guy, for whom I harbour a not
so secret crush, who I’ve bought a present for. I’ll let you know what he
thought.
And to me, that’s Christmas. Family.
Bye.
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