Isn’t it amazing how even the most obsessive blog writer seems to be cured of the normally overwhelming desire to autobiographize every life event over the Christmas period? Surfing through the handful of blogs that I visit on a regular basis, I’ve felt like I’ve been wandering around the remains of a virtual Marie Celeste.
Everybody has gone to ground.
Which is understandable. Here am I, first blog entry after Christmas, and am I going to regale you with accounts of my wonderful Christmas? Make your mouth water with descriptions of the Christmas food that was consumed in vast quantities under my very roof, the army of presents that I received?
No. I am not.
Christmas with family is nigh on impossible to convert into interesting and entertaining literature. Not because it’s in any way boring but because it’s somehow universal and deeply personal at the same time. It’s both a shared and a private experience. I’m sure the vast majority of us all do the same sort of things so what’s the point in recounting in minute detail what everybody else already knows?
And apart from anything else I am simply too knackered after several days of chocolate/DVD/insert-pleasurable-object based hedonistic pleasure to be bothered to write it all down here.
The countdown to the dreaded Return To Work has already begun. I need to make the most of my freedom. The world can wait. I’ve got a homemade chocolate cake to eat… a "Shameless" DVD boxed-set to watch…