Christmas Fever

A short off-road ride before the weather turns windier and wetter. The lanes are dank and dirty and there’s just a general lack of colour in nature now.

A blow-up Santa Claus

Be afraid, be very afraid

I think I’m right in believing Robins get redder breasts this time of year but I’m sure they appear redder still, are all the more striking, for the dull backdrop they’re exhibiting in front of. All things are relative.

Talking of relativity, the route today took me past a garden centre. Normally, you expect it to be reasonably busy on a Sunday. Today it was manic – cars queuing to get in; customers either pushing forward with purpose or dithering hopelessly everywhere. Ho ho ho – Christmas is upon us once again, like a fever.

It’s hard to begrudge business owners who need to make a living and depend on this seasonal spending spree to survive the rest of the year. It’s hard to look at frenzied shoppers and the manifest lack of pleasure on display and not think that there must be something better than this.

Of course that’s all trite and obvious, but that doesn’t make it wrong. Given that resources – time, money, energy, lives – are finite, wasting them on the – almost now traditional – unnecessarily unpleasurable seems a tad daft.

It is very difficult to make alternative actions stem from the familiarly unpleasant.