But that’s me now. An adult orphan. I’m no Oliver Twist, humbly asking for another bowl of gruel, but neither am I Black Panther the Orphan King with his superhuman strength, speed, stamina and endurance. Because I feel weak. Alone.
Tag: christmas
It’s never been clear how they acquired their alleged wisdom. Arriving with presents of gold, frankincense and myrrh for a new-born smacks of idiocy to me.
It is the most wonderful present I have ever received: so breathtakingly thoughtful, and lovingly put together by Kim, who Mum adored (as do I).
At the end of a very difficult year, this wasn’t quite how I imagined wishing everyone a happy 2021, but in these unpredictable times we really can’t gauge anything, least of all happiness. So, I’m going to change it slightly and wish you all a Loving New Year.
There is only ever one available, single person in the whole vicinity: a woman or man whose life is unfulfilled: generally, a widow or widower with a cute kid and, just for fun, a terminally ill relative. The kid still believes in Santa, hoping that he will bring the ultimate Christmas present – a new mom or dad.
On Christmas morning, we all used to go to the neighbours for pre-dinner drinks. The turkey would have been prepared and stuffed early in the morning – the giblets pulled out for stock, the inside of “the bird” dried out with a tea-towel, accompanied by Mum shouting at Dad “You know I hate it being called the bird!” What was it with her and birds, I wonder?
No Christmas was complete without the proverbial row over the Queen’s Speech. Mum a Royalist, me a Republican, I refused to watch it. Mum never watched it either, but every year made a big deal of wanting to.
A few days ago, my comments about wanting Christmas to be over attracted considerable antagonism on Facebook. It felt like Brexit Revisited – no one being allowed to voice an opinion without the risk of entering into full scale battle.
Christmas is a very stressful time for people with phobias. It’s a dreadful time for people born in the festive season for example, if they suffer from Fragapanophobia (fear of birthdays); and for anyone thinking of substituting turkey for duck, spare a thought for anyone coming to dinner who might be suffering from Anatidaephobia, which is a fear that one is being watched by a duck.
Hello, it’s me. Really? Why the effing hell are you calling me? Why would you think for one nanosecond I would want “to go over everything”? Here I was, just getting over my disastrous love life (and, to be honest, it’s taken a good few years), and here you go, out of the blue, wanting to resurrect the pain. Well, thanks a bunch.