 The merriest wholesome and salacious Yuletide greetings to one and all, at this the festive season of goodwill and merriment. Yes, now is the time to lock up the spouse's charge and debit cards or better still find a secluded Crofters cottage deep in the Scottish Highlands miles away all things living. And not necessarily with the other-half either. Never the less, with all this cheerfulness about, I must confess the events of recent weeks globally, have somewhat dragged me down to a low ebb. Nationally the picture isn't much prettier either, in fact everything seems almost grim. "Now then Vic" they say gleefully, " they haven't put the 10 % on the council tax yet that's not till next year" etc etc. But I just can't help myself. "Cheer up" they say as you do when you greet an old saddo at the back of the queue in the post office. "Things aren't too bad meduk" they chuckle as we instinctively settle into the warmest October on record since 1888. Then Steadily we're looking forward to the precursory warning of the repetition of the winter blizzards of 1947 and 63. "It's the global warming you know" as they nod knowingly with a wink. Oh, how they grin as they besmirch their way through the ins and outs of Cabinet Minister's affairs and muse over the fact that in twenty years time China will be producing more green house gas pollution than the USA and the rest of the world put together. That's a lot of green houses! Not to mention tomatoes. Yes they smirk a wry smile at the glorious event of Norwich City winning a game by the clever skilful means of an own goal. That news just swans over my head in ever mind-blowing unbelievableness. Oh yes the events of modern times really make me want to Whoop it up and run through the streets naked with a current bun strapped to my nether regions pronouncing I invented the doughnut! Indeed I now believe that the world's gone mad and left me behind in some strange, surreal, twilight dimension during my lunch break. But of course it hasn't. It's just that every time I've nodded off lately in my armchair fitted with acme slipper rest, cocoa-holder and remote pouch I have been rudely awakened by the Sheringham's answer to the Blitzkrieg. This relentless bombardment day and especially night since the beginning of October, is supposed to be the celebratory ratification of the misfortunes of a 400-year-old terrorist attempt to assassinate King James the 1st and all his merry men. This we were taught, (in the days when we actually had history lessons) could have changed the course of history as we knew it. Some might argue it was a shame he failed really, as at least today we wouldn't have all-in-sundry selling the wretched things to every idiot in the land who thinks a fifteen quid a time sky bomb should be launched every midnight one month before the big day! Yet another reason to shop at Morrisons I don't think. Don't get me wrong I don't want to come across as a killjoy. I mean if you must terrorise every domestic cat and canine in the land along with making it an excuse to legitimately incinerate the mother-in-law's holiday cottage it's all right with me, but please could we stick to just the one day and be finished with it? Now then talking of things finished. At last! The Quaker meeting-house building works have come to an end, for now. The ramp is on, it's lit and above all roofed and glazed. Which I must admit is exactly what mine eyes did when I first clapped sight of it. What happened folks? Did the proper architect have a holiday? You ran out of money or what? I guess it was divine intervention that made the order of the day in the planning office was it? Obviously he or she in charge nipped out for a tea break at the crucial moment. St Peter's new build is underway also, but unlike the "friend's"; their aesthetic code is somewhat a different ball game. Well it's time to mention the inevitable C word again and above all Lawson Way's contribution to the Christmas cheer is in full swing. Not only that but mine ears have heard whispers that indeed Sheringham's very own business lights around the town this season are to be all white alright? I do hope that they all get into the spirit of the season. I am fully aware that the individuals have to fork out a bit. But to my mind they should all have made enough cash from the fish and chip butty brigade during the summer to create a splendiferous visual display to rival Blackpool illuminations let alone a 20 quid set from the Christmas shop in the High Street. Or sadly now as Lambeth council has chosen to call them their "winter lights". Another case for political correctness gone barking mad! I would like to add that on my recent numerous trips to the new mall in the City. I was amazed and saddened that to my dismay Advent calendars were now to be renamed seasonal calendars. And by the same token in the tabloids it was announced that even H M customs and excise offices have been banned in sending Christian aid gift shoe boxes as this may create an impression of inappropriate association with any one particular religious group. Even the Royal Mail was in trouble over its Christmas stamps because some group or other took offence. Oh dear is this intolerance at it's worst? Well in our household at least it's a Christmas festival, whether or not you could call it Christian is another matter for debate. We have a debauched debenture of coloured lights festooned about the hall. Decked with holly, mistletoe sparkling decorations and auntie Mavis. Over the open fire place stands a stable, donkey and Mary with a sugar mouse in a crib as the baby Jesus succumbed to Fudo's attentions years ago when we were packing. We lovingly adorn the Christmas tree with tinsel, baubles and a burger alarm whilst singing carols to a cracker. We still believe in telling the kids about the coming of Santa and red nosed reindeer on Christmas Eve, and believe in the hanging of stockings, pillowcases and hairnets. Then at half past eleven, stagger along down to midnight mass and let the Christian merriment begin with reverent piety. What's next eh? What are they going to rename that? The festival of the winter Season of goodwill to all men night? Oh and don't forget the women. T.T.F.N. A solicitous Merry Christmas to you all. Take care now Vic.
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