|Discoing Robots in Covent Garden|
It's round about this time of year I start to plan where to bunker down during the actual festivities. I've written before; how much I love Christmas.
Unlike almost everything else...Some how I'm not cynical about it. Maybe because, at this time of year, all these lights and shiny things bring my heart out of hiding.
I can be myself at Christmas.
I don't pretend to be manly and impenetrable.I can't.
I can't hide my eyes, wide as saucers wishing to absorb everything that glitters.
Going out late at night just to look at the lights and the stars in the clear and bitter cold.
|Umbrellas in Borough|
Deep waves of nostalgia building to their crescendo...I'm not a huge fan of Christmas Day.
I wonder whether I can get away once more with spending it alone...I ponder it guiltily.
Last year, my Gran died in January.In April I had to let go of my Dad- whether for the last time, I don't know. But, Last year was filled with grief and sadness. So I did the right thing. the good thing.And spent it with my Mother. I needed to be her child.And, I thought perhaps she needed it too.
This year,...has been eyebrow raising.
What I really want is to disappear to some tiny cabin in the Highlands closed in by the elements.
With only snow and biscuit selection boxes for company. And perhaps Rum.
Rum would be good.
Yeah, this year I want to spend Christmas
as Hunter. S Thompson.