… At least for another month.
I arrived in Aviemore on Friday night. For a yoga weekend, if you care. And the bright moonlight bounced off the orange and yellows in the trees. Sometimes the mild gusts caught another handful of crinkly leaves and flung them down the Main Street.
Autumn colours suitably pumpkiny for All Hallows’ Eve eve.
But something else was dancing in the October gusts.
Yes, that’s right. Freaking Christmas lights.
But Aviemore is not alone in having a case of premature decorations. Our local hardware shop has one window be-grottoed and supermarkets are starting their menacing twinkle.
Previous years I have objected to this on the grounds that it’s far too early to even think about turkey, John Lewis ads, shopping or listening to Last Christmas a million times. I don’t want the spectre of my domestic failings looming just yet. The Ghost of Mrs Claus warning me that I have yet to pick a theme, think hard enough about thoughtful gifts, plan the food, or succumb to panic about the entirely manufactured scarcity of unnecessary items. Mrs C knows she can sod off for a while.
This time my problem is boredom, or, rather, acclimatisation. Humans are remarkably adaptable. We can get used to almost anything. Live with something however remarkable it once was – noise, smell, fairy lights – long enough and you stop noticing it. (Also a problem in many marriages.)
If the point of Christmas
tat decorations is to create a magical, festive – and temporary – atmosphere to enhance the indigestion and avarice, then they have to be exactly that – temporary. They should not be up for a fifth of our lives.
I suggest that restricting bauble exposure to a fortnight would be ideal. The moment you no longer clap eyes on the tree and think “Gosh, how charming!”, the game is up and it’s time to pack it all away.
So let’s see no more jolly holly or smiling snowmen until Festive Fortnight which begins on December 17. Please.