Carol McGiffin
‘Every year, I get the feeling the world might be ending on Christmas Day. Not just because I’m an eternal doom merchant, but because I keep hearing the words, ‘ We must meet up before Christmas’, or ‘I have to see you before Christmas!’ Why? What’s the rush?
As a result, almost every night, from the beginning of November right up until 24 December, is packed with party after party, gathering after gathering, dinner after dinner, and drinks after drinks.
And so, when the world doesn’t end as the 25th rears its festive head, it means it’s over and I can relax.
I don’t have to socialise/drink/ make small talk/spend money any more. Instead, I can just doss on the sofa, barking orders and demanding turkey sandwiches, while watching all the TV
I haven’t had time to watch for the past two months, because I’ve been out every night.
By then, a glass of wine or champagne is about as appealing as a glass of bleach and the thought of drinking it not only turns me bilious, but it makes Dry January seem like a really good idea.
When you have a fairly active social life all-year round, there’s no need for a glut of gatherings, and I find myself concocting ever more elaborate excuses as to why I can’t go out. In fact, sometimes I wish someone would leave the cover off a manhole, so I could genuinely fall down it and break my leg.
Of course, I’m joking about that last bit, and I would never cancel on a friend. But, for future reference, if I do and it’s in the runup to Christmas, then you know I’m lying…
THEWAY ISEEIT...
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