It’s beginning to look a lot like I AM GOING TO SHOVE THOSE CHRISTMAS BAUBLES UP YOUR CHIMNEY IF YOU DON’T BACK THE F*** UP, Santa! You too Rudolph, if that even is your real name…
Seriously get out of the way, scrooge is coming through with big plans to hate, hate, hate all over your Christmas.
Turning 18, becoming fully self-dependent, purchasing a vacuum cleaner… all things we use to classify the transition to adulthood – until now. Continue reading
Dear Santa,
I’m calling bullshit on your annual delivery of underwear and pyjamas, enough is enough. You need to quit it with your small-time stocking stuffers and take this shit big picture. Think of it as making up for the other 364 days of the year where all you do is sit on your gingerbread and candy cane throne and judge the citizens’ of the world. And just who are you calling a ho? For shame, Santa. Level with me a minute and hear me out, I just have a few simple requests.
Please can I have for Christmas:
And so this is was Christmas… although, there was definitely something missing. Every Christmas we used to receive a letter in the mail with a yearly update of some family friends that I’d never met. My parents never once wrote them back and as far as I’m aware haven’t seen them in about 20 years, but still the letters came. That is until my parents moved and failed to update their (clearly close) friends with their new address.
The two kids were about my age and I followed them as they grew in their study, extra-curricular activities and skills in card making. Last I heard of them it was becoming pretty clear that the older sister was somewhat of an overachiever. Her lengthy paragraph was filled with complimentary commentary on her success as a lawyer and generally lots of positive adjectives. Next was the section on the younger brother, William. This was considerably shorter and padded out with details of recent purchases like a new push bike and a monthly train ticket. The shame. Continue reading
Each Christmas my family seems to have some sort of fight, be it big or small. It doesn’t quite feel like Christmas without one. Sometimes the fights are serious, over big decisions relatives have made. Other times they are pettier over things like who forgot to flush. And sometimes the fights are because we really want to play with that sparkly wrapping paper…
My twin nieces in a tug-of-war over much prized wrapping paper
This afternoon there was a knock at the door. In my previous house when I lived next to Matt the drug dealer I chose not to open the door unless I knew who it was, but for some reason in my new leafy street I feel a bit safer, or maybe it was just my Saturday good mood.
When I opened the door two elderly ladies greeted me with a smile and introduced themselves. They were from the local church and were inviting people in the neighbourhood to join them for Christmas mass. Continue reading
the blank notebook 