and its fleece was white as snow.

It’s the festive season everyone, and the towns are once again packed full of last minute shoppers, trying to grab any sort of  retail bargain with which to stuff their seemingly endless stockings. You can feel the tension in the air upon entering any of the stores as swarms of bug-eyed customers rapidly scan shelf after shelf; sift through rack after rack; dig through bin after bin to find that ever elusive “perfect” gift for that someone who is always forgotten: old Aunt/Uncle Whatshisorherface. People are literally getting into a sweat and panic over the finishing touches for their unbeatable (until the next year) Christmas Day.

There is no better time to see the generosity of human kind than at this time of year. Millions and millions of pounds are spent on celebrating something that has probably no meaning whatsoever for the majority. I do wonder how many of these present-buyers are actually Christian? How many actually realise what the true meaning behind the annual festivities? Is the 25th December still the date of the birth of Jesus Christ? Or is it just another day on the calendar which just so happens to be filled with gift-swapping, and turkey-eating, and wine-drinking, and carol-singing? I wonder, indeed.

And then there’s the yearly wish. The one that is in everyone’s prayers from the very beginning of December: please let it be a White Christmas. Please, let it snow. Let the ground be covered in white slush so as to make travel almost impossible. Let it be so cold that our hands and faces glow red. That, dear Lord, is what we all wish. 

Anyways, I wish everyone – who celebrates it – a very merry Christmas. And season’s greetings to those who don’t. Have a good’un!