Good God, it's effing freezing here in C-Town. But that's not dampening anyones spirits, because CHRISTMAS IS LOOMING! Huzzah! Usually I end up stomping around in a bit of a scrooge-fest this close to the big day, as the frantic bustle of mad shoppers and relentless enforced festive cheer generally makes me want to find Santa and punch him in his fat red face. It's always seemed vaguely ridiculous to me that people (myself included) actually fall hook, line and sinker for the crap peddled by retailers the world over and work themselves up into such a panic over a day that is now more of a celebration of consumerist culture than ol' JC. We're constantly told that unless we buy the best (ie: most expensive) gifts, food, tree, lights, crackers, cards, cat stockings or naff novelty Rudolph antlers, our nearest and dearest will scoff at our substandard efforts and reject us from their lives completely. "SPEND! SPEND ALL YOUR MONEY AT OUR STORES," they scream subliminally "OR YOU ARE ESSENTIALLY A MASSIVE GOBSHITE WHO OBVIOUSLY CARES DIDDLY SQUAT ABOUT THE ONES YOU LOVE, AND IF YOU DON'T SPEEEEND LIKE CRAZY YOU WILL BE REVEALED AS A WORTHLESS PERSON AND EVERYONE WILL HAAAATTTTEEE YOOOOOUUU. MERRY SHITTING CHRISTMAS. Now give us your cash."
Well, I say FUCK YOU STORES. This run-up to Christmas has been infinitely more bearable as this year, I decided I wasn't going to buy into this balls anymore. A budget was set and adhered to, half of my gifts are handmade and the other half are mostly sourced from independent and charity shops. Yes, my presents may be an absolute crock of shite, but at least I put thought and effort into making things I believe my friends will genuinely appreciate whilst simultaneously managing not to break the bank and my will to live. It's allowed more time for the lame stuff that Christmas memories are made of - muddling through tree decorating without the help of our mummies (hey, we're students), walks around the lake in the dark whilst wearing no fewer than three coats, incessant talks with elderly shopkeepers about the possibility of a white Christmas (us Brits do love to chat about the weather), printing endless t-shirts and having a hissy fit when one went horrendously wrong, cocktail gatherings at Ursi's with canape's and white russians, shouting "I'm HIBERNATING, damnit!" whenever anyone queries as to whether it's healthy to not leave bed for 16 hours, buying a lovely new rain-stomping coat for a bargainous £20. the excitement on everyones faces when the Christmas eve piss-up is mentioned, cheap mince pies on a cake stand and copious amounts of tea...it's a very British Christmas, and I couldn't be happier.
To all who read this blog, I truly hope you all have an amazing Christmas hols :) and I hope that my self-indulgent Xmas rant didn't make you want to cyber-kick me. Happy holidays, one and all! Massive hugs to all eight of you! Now pass me the Baileys...
Goose stalking and bauble-raiding at Roath Park. As you can see, any semblance of 'style' goes up Shit Creek whenever it's time to leave the house.
Putting said stolen bauble on the tree, and PRESENTS!
Much love, beautiful people xx