On the Beat

Back in the mid 1980s, there was a Christmas single about a woman having a nervous breakdown (or similar crisis) at Christmas. It came out around about the same times as the Waitresses' "Christmas Wrapping".

It was an excellent single, providing a little bit of balance in this irritatingly upbeat time. (Happy Credit Crunch Christmas! Hee...)

Thing is, I have no idea who it was by or what it was called. It doesn't get wheeled out on an annual basis (leaving Wham! as the most depressing Christmas song going...)

Any clues out there in internetland?

Shops in Edinburgh have had Christmas decorations up since October: as usual, it was the Dome in George Street which was the first.

Edinburgh's Christmas market is up in Princes St Gardens, with the big wheel and slides, and down below, where the loch once was, a skating rink.

I don't feel in the slightest bit festive. For me, Christmas starts on December 24 and lasts three days, at most.

Still, I have succumbed to the inevitable - and for the first time ever, I have made myself a Christmas icon.

I rather like the idea of a Christmas Angel [of the North] ...!

Edit...And of course, when I go back to my non-festive userpic after Christmas, it will disappear, and this post won't make any sense at all... I really, really like the happenchance around that!

And old memes are getting rolled out again.

I saw this for the first time this year on stephmog. It makes me think I should update my interests!



And wouldn't it make more sense to be "twelve drums drumming"?!

It was a beautiful morning; I decided I should get some exercise whilst the weather held: and so I walked to Leith for my lunch.

It was very good to stretch my legs - literally: I haven't been out much over the past couple of days. The sky was a deep blue, the winter sun bright if not warm. Winter is definitely here (although as someone pointed out, it is the solstice in a couple of weeks, and then the days will grow longer; although there is a while to go to the summer light).

A ham sandwich and chips - the chips being cooked in cocaine-oil, I am sure: they are clearly addictive. No whisky: it would be too, too easy to sit and while away the whole afternoon; easy, but dangerous, I am sure. Some other time. I resisted the whisky and amoretti trifle, too. It sounds very good, though...

There is a large Christmas tree in the south west corner of the large room - rising perhaps a foot below the high ceiling. They must have had fun getting that in here. It is a beautiful tree - not to gaudy despite the coloured lights. It gives the room even more of a Victorian mood. (We are limited to a small tree at home, lest the cats go hunting baubles amongst the needles.)

I had been thinking that perhaps regaling anyone who might happen by with what I was given – and gave – for Christmas might be a touch too much like a primary school essay; but sheep that I am, I see that other have done so, so what the heck

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I have just finished writing my Christmas cards. This is a chore which I hate, though I don’t know why. As my wife just said, “Why do you find it hellish? They’re your friends…”

Which is true – though some of them are family (and I didn’t chose them!) and others are people who used to be friends but I haven’t seen in a couple of years – or more…

But I hate writing Christmas cards. ( Read more... )

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.