The spare room is over flowing with yet to be wrapped goodies for my loved ones. Karen and I are already compiling our Christmas food shopping list. Suddenly I’m able to stomach every cheesy film that the TV throws at me (I’m even enjoying the Christmas idents on all the TV channels).
And my budget is as blown as Hugh Grant on an L.A. side street.
I’m sure I’ll be annoyed with my spendthriftery come the New Year but for now I’m well pleased with what I’ve bought. There’s nothing worse than being lavished with gifts yourself on Christmas morning and then grimacing as you hand over a meagre pile of newspaper wrapped gift-ettes in return. Sure the January bills will be depressing but I can take consolation in the fact that Karen and the boys will be over the moon with what I’ve got them.
I’m sure such inner warmth will also help insulate me from the cold chill winds of February as I bed down for the night in front of Woolworth’s shop window...
And as for Roy Wood’s desire that it be Christmas every day... well. Nice idea Roy but, really, no. I honestly couldn’t afford it.
I’m already considering approaching Richard Branson for financial help as it is...
I wonder if it would help if I changed my name to Northern Rock?