20 December, 2010

And so, it is Christmas.

In the past year, a lot of stuff has happened to seemingly make the year itsself feel more like ten. But it's almost the end of the 2011th year since Jesus' birthday on this Earth, and promises of a New Year lie in tantaziling distance. What I've never understood is why the year ends at December and starts again at January...surely if Jesus' gang made his birthday Christmas (which must SUCK, you only get half the presents; good for the parents though, make a couple of cheeky cutbacks, oioi) then you'd want the year to start on the 26th, or Boxing Day. And WHY is it called Boxing day? We don't box! Are we breaking tradition? We just sit around and watch repeats of things on the televison with a biiiiiig glow of satisfaction and stockings to open. Wheeee!! But yeah, anyway. OMG Bobby Davro (?) is on Come Dine With Me, but I digress (I'm digressing meaninglessly all over the shop wearing a Christmas hat; suck on that!).
So, Christmas this year; it will be different, and because we've had so much snow, I feel like I'm in a Hallywood romcom, which is never a good thing; prolonged exposure to box-office mush turns your brain to grey soup, much like reality TV, smoking and being a teacher. Personality transplants do exist, just ask my tutor, if you can get hold of her. I wouldn't recommend it to be honest, she sucks my soul out with a simple greeting. Although that's probably because she's also my PE teacher, and the sound of her voice transports me back to numerous PE lessons, being yelled at for not catching a stupid plastic ball or missing an 'easy pass'. Cuhh! What is an 'easy pass' when it's at home, anyway? I wouldn't know what one was if it jumped onto my lap, bellydanced for England and started talking Welsh. Oh, hey, Cerys Matthews. *cue Tumbleweed*.


No comments:

Post a Comment