For years I have bitched, moaned, complained, whined, grumbled, muttered, groused and sworn about Christmas starting at the beginning of October. Decorations go up in the shops and “christmas” pop blasts at us from every speaker in every shop earlier each year. We are bombarded by adverts purporting to show the perfect (unattainable) day and exhorting us to buy, Buy, BUY. Small wonder that the day can be an anti-climax and that afterwards we may be left with a hollow feeling, or a little discontent that our Christmas didn’t match what we’ve been told we should have had and felt.
Welcome to Spain. The streets are decorated with Christmas lights, but there is a complete absence of canned “christmas” musak in the shops and the adverts seem understated. I had difficulty finding cards to buy – not a Clintons nor Hallmark to be seen. (And if Spanish TV is telling me what to want, I can neither see nor understand it!!)
Today held a joyous moment – there were loads of schoolchildren being herded to what I imagine was an inter-school carol service at the church where the storks nest on the roof. The teacher at the front of one crocodile of 6-7yr olds suddenly turned around and, walking backwards, conducted them in a singalong – now that’s Christmas …
In other news: the waiter at the campsite restaurant has declared, via the barman who speaks english, that he is a huge fan of english women – and I appear to be the current object of his admiration. I’m certain that there’s an ulterior motive, he has to be at least 20 years younger, but in the spirit of the season of goodwill, I will take it as a compliment, enjoy my Shirley Valentine moment – and run!
🙂 🙂 🙂