This time next week, it will all be over for another
year. Depending on when you are reading my wee column, there will be 5, 4 or 3
sleeps left, until that big man, dressed in his Coca Cola red costume, drops
down the chimney to deliver your presents. That’s assuming you have made it on
to his “Nice list!”
There will be more than a few people on Waterford’s
“Naughty list” and we hope that Santa deals with them appropriately!
Like so many others, I’ve written to Santa. I let him know
about the dozens of promises made to us and how, time after time, we have been repeatedly
let down. So many have guaranteed, well almost, to bring X, Y and Z, as well as
A, B and C to the Déise. Yet we never seem to get the very presents that we deserve.
It is like we are little Tiny Tim, from Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” and the
Government is Scrooge. We just need someone brave enough to show the party in
power, those three life changing ghosts. Alas, I fear that it will take a few
more Christmases to get our Scrooge to change his mind.
Anyway, I am sure that a week from now, we will all be
deciding just what to do, with our three day old leftover turkey and ham. We’ve
had copious quantities of sandwiches, with the two fillings and despite handing
out mountains of these to our visitors, there is still enough left, for one
more dish. What if we make a curry or a stew? Maybe the easier option would be
soup? Or better still, the brown bin’s mouth is calling, ready to swallow all
things leftover. So the bin it is, as we have to move on to thoughts of how to
cook and prepare the ham, for New Year’s Day.
It’s a time to get together and share in the joy of
giving. Put a wee bit of thought into those presents for loved ones. Vouchers
are fine for birthdays and anniversaries, but from Santa? Nothing says I’ve
thought of you more than the small token present that will mean so much to your
nearest and dearest. When you get it right, their reaction says it all.
I’ll share a Christmas past with you. Men tend to be
very, very, very, practical when it comes to presents. That’s the way our minds
are hard wired and programmed. It goes back to the days of us being the hunter
gatherers. We just can’t help it, so ladies, cut us a wee bit of slack.
With this in mind, I once wrapped and delivered to Mrs
Garland, a lovely wood affect mahogany toilet seat, a set of stainless steel
mixing bowls (which are still in use), an electric tooth brush (now long gone)
and a plethora of other wonderfully, sensible (in my eyes), no-nonsense gifts.
I had put an awful lot of thought into my shopping that year.
Did I get any credit for this? No! As the saying goes
in the North East of Scotland, “It was just one sheep!”, you can work out the
rest yourself. Tainted for the rest of my life, I am afraid! Lesson learned.
At Christmas time, I would advocate that the males of
the species, never ever provide your wonderful other halves with the Jigsaw
(the electric type for wood cutting). A vacuum cleaner (of any make), a
combined microwave oven, a blender or, God forbid, a Slendertone....what is
that suggesting!?!? It may well be the season to be jolly, but it is not the
season, time or place to be giving sensible gifts.
2017 will soon be leaving us. We can start looking
forward to the New Year and what 2018 might bring Waterford.
Can we really look forward to better times ahead? I do
hope so. Unfortunately, those who rub the magic lamp, to loosen Exchequer
funds, don’t have Waterford on their Christmas card list. Unwilling to spend
the €1 on a stamped card, wishing us some much needed, festive cheer.
May I sincerely wish you, a Merry Christmas and a Happy
Hogmanay, when it arrives.
No comments:
Post a Comment