Christmas Tendrils

The outreaching tendrils of Christmas are being felt as we pass the landmark of Guy Fawkes. Stepping out  of Selfridge’s  on the evening of the fifth from our rooftop dining at Le Chalet we thought we were in a parallel Guy Fawkes as police vans  filled with gun wielding officers dashed past us blue lights flashing. Was this another Gun Powder Plot? No just a normal London evening. 

Meantime we had just left a rather wonderful Christmassy scene up on the roof. With blankets draping every chair, logs piled high and sparkling lights festooning all with a Christmas glow, we felt ourselves immersed in a chalet with snow outside and Father Christmas about to make an entrance. Apart from all this, we also enjoyed a delicious supper.

My daughter and I love Christmas and, since we are about to go off to India, we will only have ten days to count down when we return. For that reason, and possibly because of the present difficult economic climate we all seem to want to make as much as we can of a season which promotes well being towards others.

Yes, I know there is a certain amount of schmaltz involved but this is the time to abandon cynical rationalism and just wallow in childlike hopefulness. Now this doesn’t mean though that we are complete push-overs. You still have to keep an eye out for the bad guy, but just so that you can treat him / her with  the right degree of  straightforwardness mixed with the perspective of humour. Think “Home Alone”.

All of those wonderfully sentimental films are now starting to appear on the box with all the endings declaring a belief in the magic of a supernatural figure who wants to spread nothing but positive social caringness. Those who are curmudgeonly are transformed  into believers but there are always a few left who remain outside the glowing circle of sharing and caring who will never be able to open their hearts. We, the film watchers, always feel that we are part of the “goodies”as once more we dry our tears and feel the heartfelt warmth of love to all mankind beating in our breasts.

Can this message of Christmas, no matter how simply expressed, be such a bad thing?