Game Over? Snow? Mr Pickwick?

When you get to tea time on xmas eve, that’s it, game over. The stress ratchets down several gears and you can try to have a bit of fun. Because, for 36 hours or so, capitalism’s going to take a back seat. Once in the year when they shut most of the shops and shut the fuck up. (If you don’t have a telly. If you do, I seem to recall the book-your-summer-holiday-the-fuck-NOW adverts starts, well, about now).

The fun starts because the capitalists are out of it for a wee bit, and you can stop thinking “What must I buy?” Temporarily.

Will it snow tonight in South West Scotland? We got caught in a nasty sleet shower coming up the road just now. But snow’s forecast. Snow would make bairns happy. And some grown ups. What’s wrong with that? Yes, I know it’s all about cultural constructs, climate change, Charles Dickens, Prince Feckin Albert, and God only knows what… But I want snow!

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