Yes dear friends it is that time of year….again.

As you can see at the moment, it was time to dig out the old images and theme settings for yet another dose of christ-all-mighty-mas cheer, the same old bloody songs being repeated and sold for the same price as last year, almost as if the record companies and radio stations think it’s the first time we’ve all heard Noddy Holder shout “It’s Christmas, it actually is, honest, I’m not kidding this time.” since yesterday.

The thing is, I rather don’t like Christmas. After last year’s beginning of the credit crunch goodness, things haven’t really changed at all.

You still have to worry what to get people, as you look like a complete and utter rag that’s been tossed all over by Hitler if you fail to turn up with anything short of something amazing, like the cure for cancer, or a remote control house. You got me a jumper to keep the cold out….bastard!

You still end up attending office parties which are just as painful as being in the office as the same people are there, only this time armed with drink, all pretending to like each other but deep down all of them secretly wanting to take out a gun and re-enact the columbine school shootings and may be get a better score.

You have put out 20 year old decorations round the house making the place look more like a council estate complete with burned out Ford Orion than at any other time of the year, buy too much drink and food along with stomach pump, all in the effort to get into the spirit of things. Maybe get a big telly to make sure that the time spent with your loved ones is watching Doctor Who instead any amount of human contact.

Remember as well, you give thanks for everything you have, friends, family, a roof over our heads and food to fill our over sized bellies, basically underlining the fact we’re putting off death for a little while longer while others can’t really do so.

More and more adverts come onto the goggle box, telling us to buy 127874 varieties of bloody toilet water that you’re meant to drown yourself in, plan for our death thanks to June Whitfield, and maybe get another £45,000 unsecured personal loan which sounds like a great idea if it wasn’t for the fact that it was that kind of thinking which got us all into dire straits in the first place.

It’s the time of year you get a few days off, eat and drink and p*ss. Magical.

Perhaps I’m getting a bit bogged down, but here in the dungeon of solitude aka the studio flat with attached shower room/toilet/cupboard/spare bedroom as I type away, there is still nothing really to say this is a special time of year any more.

There are lights up and I swear I’ve seen signs up that Christmas is coming, but…well…nothing else. It’s all got lost in the grey wilderness that is London, and in the meantime, there is still much work to do, so get to it or Tiny Tim will die!

Christmas; It’s just hollow, the majesty of it, the atmosphere, the good times, does anyone else think that now we all meet up, complain, eat , get drunk, complain about being drunk and then say bye for another year then return to the caves we came from?

New Year’s for instance is actually worse, in that for that little bit of time, people think it’s a new year, which means new me, achieve goals, lose weight (oh yes, remember all those f**king fitness DVDs will be on sale at one minute past midnight January 2nd) whereas we all know it’s bulls**t but we can kid ourselves for a few weeks where this is the year we change our career, move somewhere else, or meet that special someone.

Well stop it.

Stop it now.

Unless you really going to do something, keep it to yourself and you won’t hear anything from me in return. Jolly good.

Ok, that was a little harsh, but perhaps my mood has not been one of anything other than sobering realities of recent times and perhaps the wisdom of age is starting to creep in that in the grand scheme of things, this is as good as it gets. Really, as strange as it sounds, this might be the high point of our lives right now, and then that’s it.

Groundhog year will repeat until it doesn’t for you any more.

Hmm, maybe if i got some ghosts visiting me then it might come as a welcome change to what actually happens. Me getting off my arse and doing something laudable in life?Humbug.