Wednesday 23 December 2009

Christmas Time...


Once, Christmas was fun for our mothers. Now it is a militarised series of events for them:
-Buy the Christmas cards. Make the mince pies. Write the Christmas cards. Decorate the house. Buy the presents. Buy the food. Buy the stamps for the Christmas cards. Buy the tree. Send the Christmas cards....
They pretend they are having fun with the family but really they hate it. Year after year dad throws away the bag in the garage with the Christmas decorations, thus creating the first (usually of many) Christmas arguments.

Although in general i do enjoy getting into the festive spirit, which in Argentina, really hardly exists. Well, unless you count avoiding the fireworks planted in bins and street corners which make you feel as if you are living in a war zone. What part of being kicked out of my bedroom, being forced to speak to great aunt Mildred, who requires a hearing aid, is fun!? My family always try and go away for Christmas so mother doesn’t face a nervous breakdown hosting the masses. I just don’t get the point of small presents from people I hardly know. If I wanted that tacky necklace from Claire’s I would go and get it. You receive a present; your voice always is required to become higher. ‘OMG’ amazing, I have always wanted that’ to some jewellery which resembles something Vicky pollard would wear. You are then required to wear it, to be polite.
The worst is when people continue looking in the bag to see if there is anything else to this present. ‘No, no that’s really it love, credit crunch and all’.

1 comment:

  1. Haha this is hilarious.

    Didn't know you write this blog. So awesome. Will be back to read more.

    X Lilly

    ReplyDelete