(Lyle look away, now)
I am always puzzled about when Christmas officially starts.
I was in a shop the other day and overheard a man asking whether they had any "Christmas calendars". I assume he meant "Advent Calendars". By memory, Advent Calendars always began on 1 December. Mind you those were the days when finding a crappy picture of a candle was supposed to be exciting. No chocolate then. In those days, my Primary School even tried to brainwash us into giving things up for Advent...
I think we all groan when in late August/early September the first signs appear to book your Christmas party, and crackers are on sale in shops. I happened to share a lift yesterday with some people who had some Starbucks coffee. In red (=Christmas) cups. The shops I walk past are displaying their Christmas Party outfits.
But forget the shops, they are forced to move from commercial exploitation to commercial exploitation. One year in Sainsburys on Christmas Eve three random strangers woefully contemplated the Hot Cross Buns. Another year, in Croydon, late on the day before Valentine's Day I witnessed three shops erecting their Easter Bunny displays. It's on orders from Head Office. There's no law that says we have to go along with it.
In reality, for real people, when does Christmas actually begin?
Over a period of years, I was involved in choirs and orchestras which began the Christmas rehearsals as early as September. Next week I'm off to Messiah, which is not being billed as a Christmas warmer, but one just knows instinctively that its programming in mid-November is not random.
In September, we found that many Winter Sun resorts were already booked out. I expect it will soon be time to purchase and write Christmas cards. If I'm smart I'll actually do it this year...!
Planning my workload I am conscious of the need to hit key milestones to ensure that in the last couple of weeks before Christmas I'm not dependent on the availability of others. Then I'm off for two weeks, so I would like a logical break in the sequencing of tasks.
