For the past several months, COVID 19 sourced disruption has majorly affected, and continues to affect, global family existences. Hundred of thousands of deaths, millions deprived of unrestricted liberty, mass unemployment, along with escalating poverty.
Recently, as is my want, I’ve sought to find positives to living in these unprecedented times. A task you can imagine is very challenging to successfully fulfil. Unless you’re employed in the online shopping, courier, comestible retail and a few other key worker roles, year highlights are the thinnest of gruel.
Earlier today, though, I actually managed to identify a usual life episode which’s thankfully disappeared during coronavirus restrictions. This ‘perk’ being reticence of carol singers from venturing door to door. Warblers whose singing abilities ordinarily vary from cacophonous to the even more cacophonous.
To clarify, I’ve nothing against carol singers per se. Listening to festive refrains sung by a melodic choir can be a beautiful addition to the Christmas experience. I don’t want to appear Scroogesque, however, subjection to a pubescent kid whose solitary knowledge of carol lyrics is the line “Silent Night, Holy Night”, sung tunelessly on repeat until you give them a quid, is irksome.
It’s even worse when they perform a song that’s not even a carol! I’m convinced the song one kid whistled at my door last December (he didn’t even bother to sing it!) was ‘Bring Him Home’ from Les Miserables!……. Although possibly painting myself as tres miserable for stating this, it’s only fair to expect entertainment of the highest ilk when beneficing a doorstep Jean Valjean with a £1 coin.
Less than a week until Santa’s due to arrive, these next few days will witness a significant rise in children’s excitement levels. Exuberance further enhanced by increases in sugar intake; the eating of a selection box a day catapulting kids giddiness levels into orbit.
It’s not just the kids whose brio levels escalate, ordinarily adults are equally as giddy. The quaffing of insane amounts of alcohol at office parties, imparting them with the courage to tell their boss what they’ve wished to relay all year, but daren’t when sober!……. Vitriolic and cruel putdowns such as “Do you use Harmony hairspray, Arthur?!” and “How did you become my boss? You don’t even know how Dundee cakes get their name?!”
A Dundee Cake (below) – You’d never guess how it got its name. Unless you guess it was because it originated in Dundee ….. Errrrr, then you have guessed!
As the office parties get out of hand, Harvey in Accounts will get his face slapped by Mary from Sales for inappropriate behaviour. This lewdness occurring during an impromptu office Hokey Cokey when he puts his hand in instead of out prior to shaking it all about.
During raucous Mailroom Christmas celebrations, inebriated franker*** George shows off his new barcode tattoo. An eccentric piece of body art he boasts with pride, when scanned at his local supermarket, recognises him as a 99p bag of King Edward potatoes.
*** – Not rhyming slang
Not that they’ll be any office parties over 2020’s festive season. In COVID restriction tier three, such verve and controversy boosting episodes are socially non-compliant pastimes, consequently are frowned upon. are frowned upon.
