Love d’aul Chrimbo meself. However, my father buried his mother on Christmas Eve, when he was only 22. A few years later, his brother (and only sibling) dropped dead of a heart attack on December 27th. My dad deliberately didn’t come to the phone, when his brother rang on Stephen’s night (the way he did every year) to have a very drunk, very maudlin mope about how sad it was to bury your mother on Christmas Eve. Dad told my mother to tell his brother he was out, as he just wasn’t in the mood for such a phone call. His brother was dead himself 12 hours later.
Needless to say, my Dad wasn’t the biggest fan of Christmas. He was a lovely man. He just found Xmas very hard to get through. So I don’t judge people who loath Xmas. You just never know what might have happened in their lives, to make them feel that way.
Lecture over, you shower of judgemental bastids. Now pass the tin of Roses on over this way. There bloody well better be a few of the big purple ones left !