CHRISSIE CREPT UP ON ME
WORDS: CLARE ARMSTRONG
@ByClare IN CASE the sparkly lights, mountains of supermarket mince pies and ubiquitous presence of the film Love Actually haven’t given it away: it’s nearly Christmas.
Given we’re now into the month of December that revelation shouldn’t come as a surprise but for some reason, for me at least, it actually does.
I feel like a few days ago it was July and I was just thinking about how the weather would soon be heating up again and I’d no longer have the perfect blue-sky Townsville winter days.
Now whenever I go to the shops they ask if I want my purchase gift wrapped.
As a child Christmas always felt like it would never arrive. The five or so days between the end of the school term and the big day seemed to take years, at least.
But that feeling of wishing Christmas would rush toward you completely disappears once you grow up.
It sneaks up on you and if you’re not prepared, busy with work and other parts of normal life or bad at organising things (or all three, as is my case) it can be easy to feel resentful about this auspicious festive period.
That’s not to say I harbour any Grinch-like tendencies, I actually love Christmas, but the pressure and intensity of the spectacle does overwhelm me.
Individually I love the following things: eating too much chocolate, wearing shiny things, spending time with friends and family, watching the many truly awful Christmas-themed movie offerings available on Netflix. But all at once I hardly know where to turn. This year, like many since I became one of those proper adults with a full time, no-nonsense (well, with the exception of this column) job and I shall be having an “Orphans Christmas”.
I’ll be gathering with friends and colleagues who like me are far away from family for the happy holiday.
As December 25 approaches at an alarming pace, I’ve started to panic about the fact that although I have been telling everyone we will be having an Orphans Christmas for the last month, I now need to actually start some kind of plan.