Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Holder Time Beckons

This weekend has been nominated as The One.

This is when the Christmas decorations will be dredged from their attic boxes and hung about the place, when the spent wax of 2009 will be plucked from 2005's tinsel and umpteen Santas ironed/glued.

If things go according to plan, it should take an afternoon: one hour to put everything up, two hours to find everything in the attic, and three hours making trips to B&Q to get all the bloody lights working. So glad I never invested in an animatronic reindeer when they were all the rage.

Last weekend was definitely too early, and March 15th clearly too late, and since most homes in my humble little row of olde worlde cottages have yet to display a single luminous elf, I’m guessing my neighbours plan to go with this weekend too.

What will be interesting this year, given the current climate of austerity hobby horsing on prior greed, is whether the people normally responsible for draining third world countries of their power will erect their full complement of all-singing all-dancing all-bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzing neon Lapland chic.

Will, for instance, my street be negotiable in vehicles larger than a baby buggy c/o Mr Weird Moustache dropping from his retina-searing festive display the ten foot incandescent snowman?

Will the ludicrous wobbly reindeer strapped to the roof of number 22 once more serve as a lighthouse for aliens wishing not to crash into the Earth on their way from Pluto to the Everward Crests of Zubaluba VII?

And the flashing SANTA STOP HERE signs? Will their numbers actually gift said miraculous toy bringer a genuinely possible choice? Some instead of all
, so he’s actually got time to savour a Kit Kat or two on the way round, the poor bugger?

In my youth, we had no candle bridges, no triple-sized rocket powered sleight orbiting the roof, and only the one set of fairy lights. And Santa was my Dad.

Simple times, so long ago, and yet so close, so—

oh to hell with it, you know what I’m angling to repost...


Kiersten White said...

Your dad was SANTA CLAUS??? OH MY GOSH. I have so much to thank him for!

Also, tell the truth: when you were a wee lad growing up at the North Pole, did you have any polar-caps melting flings with a spritely elfette?

fairyhedgehog said...

March is too late? Dammit, I thought I had plenty of time. I suppose you'll say that people will expect their cards and present before then too.

Why can't we have Christmas in summer when it's a bit warmer?

Whirlochre said...

You mean — me and Talula?

Hey — we were the duo responsible for the Great Polar Bear Splash of '89.

And who could forget the 2005 Festival Of Excess Planetary Liquid?

Yule Hog
The reason we can't have Christmas in Summer is that it would detract from McKoala's suffering.

The thought of her pining for snow while she sits eating turkey sandwiches on Sydney beach and we freeze to death in the

OK. You have a point.

Whirlochre said...

While I'm on the subject of icicles, btw, it's the second day of freezicles on branchicles here.

A most phestive fenomenon.

McKoala said...

*fans self while issuing a smug turkey-flavoured burp*

Our 'Santa Stop Here' sign was killed last year when a nine-year-old fell on it. Will Santa stop here? Only time will tell...

OK word ver is 'berries' - tell me that's a coincidence and I'll believe that Whirl's Dad was the real Santa.

Sylvia said...

And there I had almost driven Noddy Holder's cock out of my mind...

Old Kitty said...

And there's also Noddy Holders Nuts. I've seen the adverts.

Take care

Whirlochre said...

It's like Spidey Sense — only a marsupe version.

As the old adage goes, "drive Noddy Holder's Cock from your mind and it flails, raw and visceral, on your living room carpet".

Old Kitty
I've actually eaten them.

stacy said...

I'm going to be thinking about Christmas decorations in a whole new way!

Whirlochre said...

As long as I can still "put mine up" without fear of a visit from the Innuendo KopZ, that's quite OK.