Joyeux Noël!

"Yep, here it is, mid-December and society is pushing that giant poop called Christmas-time out of its collective posterior and there's no escaping the eye-watering stink."
You know, I've been tough on Christmas. Not because I have any politically correct objections to it. What I resent about Christmas is that it is, without argument or conjecture, the most hyped-up, overly commercialized holiday in existence. You think Hallowe'en is bad? At least with Hallowe'en, you're not expected to be jumping around with feelings of bonhomie toward strangers that you'd sooner slug.
Ever since I started blogging nine years ago, I've thrown some sucker punches at Christmas, last year's entry, from which the italicized quote above comes, being no exception.
But I experienced a moment yesterday while food shopping which sums up how, if I'm honest, I really feel about this time of year. After I bagged and paid for my groceries, the cashier wished me a "merry Christmas." In America, cashiers and store clerks wait for you to say it; only then do they feel emboldened to return the favor. Here in Britain, despite all of our own zany political correctness—and, trust me, we have no shortage of it—"Christmas" has not been reduced to "Happy Holidays" nor has it become an unmentionable.
In a suburban London supermarket, you can still be wished a "Merry Christmas" without all hell breaking loose. I like that. It made me smile. Strangers don't normally get a sunny glimpse of my pearly whites, but that lady did.
I love Christmas from the pure Christian perspective. Christianity is part of my heritage and though I don't embrace all of its aspects, I acknowledge that tradition.
Furthermore, I never believed that song from 1963 which proclaims this "the most wonderful time of the year." Erm, harrumph, say what? Unless you have the unbelievably good fortune to be in Australia, it's the suckiest time of the year. Twenty hours of darkness (in England, we never see the sun anyway, so it hardly matters), freezing cold, snow and ice everywhere ... no wonder people want to bring trees, artificial or not, into their homes and festoon them with lights, drink mulled wine and sing a bit. It's what pagans did before Christmas and you cannot blame them.
So I'll give Christmas a break this year ... and take a break from writing for the next few days. In the meantime, I wish you, dear reader, a safe, warm and, above all, merry Christmas.