I’m in there somewhere

This week I’m thinking about Christmas.

I’m being forced into it by five days, thus far, of my partner decorating trees and putting up an abundance of decorations of all colours and shapes, some even musical…and ghastly.

I’m being forced into contemplating the hideousness of Christmas Tv with more misery in the soaps and more repeats. Film premieres that I saw ten years ago and Mrs Brown’s Boys just because, well, let’s add to the hell and misery of the festive season!

These are the ‘stars’ I’m gazing at and in doing so I’m pondering if God really does have a sense of humour because either he really likes Mrs Brown …or he thinks it’s funny to inflict it on us.

I recall a time when you purchased the ‘Radio Times’ double edition and went through it, highlighting everything you wanted to watch over the festive period.

I did it this year for the first time in several years and my highlighter remained dry and unused.

I despair at the lack of originality on tv. ‘Call the midwife’ may be a fine and enjoyable programme to some but 90 minutes of it?..and Enders episodes of soaps that will no doubt involve adultery or murder or general unpleasantness all round. Cheery stuff in the cheeriest of years.

Of course my stargazing involves 200 channels that I can ignore because Sky are no better and whilst I enjoy ‘Elf’ and ‘The Santa Clause’ I have no wish to see them for the twentieth time on every channel, repeated ad infinitum. Where are the new, genuinely funny Christmas films that don’t involve sex or swearing or nauseating sloppiness but are just…fun?.

Perhaps I should admit to growing old and being out of touch…except I’m out of touch with everyone and each generation. I’m sorry, it’s just me and this time of year.

So enjoy your viewing. I hope you find something you like and hey, if it’s a certain Irish mam then do be it.

But for me, I think I’ll switch the Tv off and pop outside and look up at some real stars and hope and pray, in my own way, that next year is a better one for all of us.

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