I'm beginning to see the light

Christmas gets earlier each year, but suddenly it is late: everyone else has finished their Christmas shopping – and my wife has even finished her wrapping. (This doesn’t normally stop her buying a whole lot more gifts at the last minute.)

In Edinburgh, shops have had their Christmas displays up since October, and pubs and bars proudly switched on their Christmas lights at the start of November: the Dome festooned its Doric columns with fake plants and empty gift-wrapped boxes three weeks ago.

At work, railings and balustrades have had false shrubbery hung from them, although they have left the avenues of Ficus plants untouched – kind of strange, since they have brought in a few heavily decorated fir trees, but not thought to decorate what was already there.

All of which makes me feel on the misanthropic side of Scrooge (pre-reformation).

And then, sitting on the bus home, I see the lights in the trees along Princes Street: they are beautiful in their simplicity, stretching the length of the road with a brighter outpost of lights climbing the trees of Castle Hill to Ramsay Garden. So maybe I like Christmas decorations after all. It is a real shame when they get switched off after New Year, and Princes Street Gardens are left to their gloomy winter state.

I'm beginning to see the light

Christmas gets earlier each year, but suddenly it is late: everyone else has finished their Christmas shopping – and my wife has even finished her wrapping. (This doesn’t normally stop her buying a whole lot more gifts at the last minute.)

In Edinburgh, shops have had their Christmas displays up since October, and pubs and bars proudly switched on their Christmas lights at the start of November: the Dome festooned its Doric columns with fake plants and empty gift-wrapped boxes three weeks ago.

At work, railings and balustrades have had false shrubbery hung from them, although they have left the avenues of Ficus plants untouched – kind of strange, since they have brought in a few heavily decorated fir trees, but not thought to decorate what was already there.

All of which makes me feel on the misanthropic side of Scrooge (pre-reformation).

And then, sitting on the bus home, I see the lights in the trees along Princes Street: they are beautiful in their simplicity, stretching the length of the road with a brighter outpost of lights climbing the trees of Castle Hill to Ramsay Garden. So maybe I like Christmas decorations after all. It is a real shame when they get switched off after New Year, and Princes Street Gardens are left to their gloomy winter state.