Join us as Lisa Worrall goes Outside the Margins.
Hello, my lovelies. I can’t believe it’s my turn to entertain you again. Where did that month go? I know it’s got something to do with that wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff, but really? Did someone have to throw in warp speed as well?
I’ll tell you something else I can’t believe. As my son would say, “O.M.G.” And that definitely applies as I have just realised there are only four Friday’s ‘til the C-word! No! Not that C-word! The other one… dun dun dun… Christmas! I’m sure I just put the tree down yesterday! How the beejiminyjesus can it be upon us already?
Not that I’m a humbug, or a Scrooge and will be spending Christmas Eve in my counting house, counting my money. I mean, I could do. But after I was finished what would I do with the other twenty-three hours, fifty-seven minutes and thirteen seconds? I love Christmas, I do.
Obviously, when I was a kid it was about how many presents I was going to get, or trying to stay awake all night to catch a glimpse of the man himself, or creeping down the stairs with my brother and sister and freezing on the bottom step at the resounding snore that echoed from the living-room. Convinced, of course, that Santa had taken forty winks after delivering our presents. Not that the notion was tarnished when my dad admitted a dozen years later that he’d stayed up late to watch the telly and drink the beer we’d left out, and fallen asleep on the sofa.
As I got older Christmas changed. It was about spending time with family, loving the fact that my dad continued to buy me, without fail, a colouring book and pens, our personal tradition (one which my ex continued until the kids were born and then the task fell to them). Watching my nieces’ little faces light up as they ripped apart brightly coloured paper. I admit, the commerciality of it did kind of change it a little for me over the years, but I’ll take all the commercial oomph they want to throw at me if it means I still see those eyes light up Christmas Day.
Now, of course, I have kids of my own and I’m sure there are a few of you out there who are entertained by my statuses and snippets of life in Worrall Land. And the only thing I’m finding is, as each year goes by, they’re getting harder to buy for. I know my kids aren’t exactly rare in this respect, but trying to keep up with their changing tastes is like an Olympic sport! Not that they’re spoilt, ‘cause I’m not rich enough for that, and bless them, if I gave them an orange and a bag of coal and told them that’s all I could afford, they’d accept it graciously – then right about the present less Christmas in their memoirs to publish at some point in the future entitled, “Mommie Cheapest”.
And they’re extremely helpful when you raise the question… “What do you want from me for Christmas?” And the reply… “I dunno.” Excellent. They don’t know. I don’t know. I hope Santa knows, or they may well wake up to a Satsuma and a candle (I don’t know where to get coal – maybe I should just get them a disposable barbecue tray?) There’s one thing I do know, no matter how old they get, or how old I get, the look of unbridled excitement on their faces when they wake up Christmas morning is worth all the crap that gets thrown at you the 364 days that came before it.
Have a wonderful Christmas, my lovelies, and I hope Santa brings you everything you asked for. (I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a colouring book and pens 😉 )
~ Lisa Worrall
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.
Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,
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