Архив метки: Christmas Lockdown

Persuading a vaccinated liberal not to come for Christmas

How to deal with a vaccinated liberal family member at Christmas

They forgot to leave a forwarding address …

Published: 23 December 2021 How to deal with a vaccinated liberal family member

Preamble

As the stigmatisation of the unvaccinated steps up a gear, creating that two-tier society which Nigel Farage so accurately predicted a few weeks ago, the relentless drive to coerce people into having a vaccine which they neither trust nor want takes on a more cynical and sinister nature, targeting families in a blatant attempt to pit one member against the other using sanctimony, fear and guilt as weapons. Thus, we see yet another article following in the footsteps of the two I examined earlier in my posts, The Liberal Solution to Anti-vaxxers and Don’t let that man spoil your vaccinated Christmas!, titled ‘How to deal with unvaccinated family members at Christmas’1 from The Independent (Independent my arse! Who said that?).

In order to level the playing field a little, I thought it only fair that consideration should be given to the conundrum of how to deal with an unwanted guest from the point of view of an unvaccinated family, whose only wish is to spend a normal family Christmas free from the constraints and self-righteous sermonising that so often is par for the course with the uneasy vaccinated.  I make no apology for wedding the vaccinated example in my ‘How to deal with …’ version to a specific ideology as, from what I hear, see, read and experience, it is generally people of this persuasion who are the most vocal, vociferous and intransigently bigoted and, therefore unsurprisingly, the most obsessed and controlling. It is what fear does.

How to deal with a vaccinated liberal family member at Christmas

Christmas comes but once a year and with it that old chestnut of yet another coronavirus variant. Last Christmas it was just plain old Covid-19, but for Christmas 2021 it’s been given a jolly name, Omicron, known by its friends as Moronic, and news of its alarming rate of transmission, dramatic and sensationalised, is continuing to spread rapidly around the UK, thanks to the UK media. Bad news sells, folks!

A figure pulled out of nowhere claims that more than a million people will ruin their Christmases by subjecting themselves to self-isolation, which is good news for lonely guys who will not feel half as embarrassed sitting at home with the budgerigar, a meal for one, no children, as the courts gave custody to the wife, whilst spending Christmas in a rented flat as the wife got the family home. It’s called equality ~ of the liberal kind.

Never mind, they can always console themselves with a daily dose of Coronavirus statistics. Friday 17 December was an important day in the coronavirus statistic watchers’ calendar. On this day, so the media solemnly swears, there was more coronavirus infections than on any other: 93,000 (so they tell us!). But take heart, rumour has it that two pricks of Pharter’s Covid-19 vaccine offer a whopping great 70 per cent protection against whistling off to hospital, and a man who plays Bingo, and knows all about numbers, has said that it also gives 33 per cent protection against getting it. But he’s a lonely guy who works for a liberal newspaper, so he probably doesn’t get it, or get it very often, and even if he did get it, it would most likely be in a place where most of us would not want it. 

And it really wouldn’t be a Coronavirus Christmas without mentioning boosters, so let it be known that ‘early tests’ indicate ~ and let’s face it, everything about the vaccine is an ‘early test’ (too early) ~ that yet another Pharter’s prick, a booster, may be all that’s needed to convince omicron to sling its hook and go and look for a less polluted body.

In the meantime, you could not do any worse than click on the government website, where it is suggested that getting fully vaccinated is the best way of protecting yourself from continual harassment about getting vaccinated.

Funnily enough, not everybody is buying it. It was written on a fag packet that one-third of Londoninstaners (‘Oh, maybe it’s because they’re not Londoners …’) were sticking two fingers up at all of it and adopting an attitude of, ‘Well, you can F!*K Right Off!’. But this hasn’t stopped the boats coming.

Nevertheless, the chances are that when families get together this Christmas, with no intention of self-isolating ~ who is going to miss out on all that free grub and booze ~ some of them might be vaccinated! There is also the possibility that some of them might be liberal!

This could be a cause for real concern, since, according to what everyone knows, mixing with vaccinated liberals means that you’re 20 times more likely to be subject to ranting, raving, frothing at the mouth and scenes of toy-throwing hyperventilation than you are of catching coronavirus.

But how do you tactfully approach the subject with family members that have this misfortune? And what if they, the vaccinated, are suffering from the delusion that you are willing to let them doss at your home over Christmas?  And is there the slightest possibility of avoiding boring conversations about coronavirus bullshit when you know full well that even an unvaccinated liberal (if there is such a thing) can never resist bringing his, her or its, Guardian-inspired nonsense into the house, even when you have asked them to wipe their boots.

Dealing with a vaccinated liberal family member at Christmas

A man who always wanted to be a counsellor (he’s liberal) but didn’t know how to spell it so ended up a councillor instead, came out with the best understatement that anyone has heard since Waddington’s invented the family game Rowopoly, namely that Christmas can be a stressful time.

“Considering that last year we were all lucky not to spend Christmas together,” said this man, “the usual family rows that we would have had may well have been simmering for a good twelve months. Add to the toxic mix a family member, or two, who are vaccine control freaks and readers of The Independent and someone could well end up flying across the festive table. Being aware of this, and coming prepared with a first aid kit and, if you live in London, a stab vest or two, could be prudent.”

The man, whom everyone is rather glad is not a family member, for if he was coming for Christmas dinner he would be the first to have his head pushed into the trifle, went on to counsel that the issue of vaccinations will certainly come up if one or more of your vaccinated family is a liberal, as they won’t be able to keep their gobs shut ~ do they ever!

Not wanting to make us any more neurotic than we are at present, thanks to endless twaddle about coronavirus, the man, who would do better keeping his pseudo-psychology to himself, suggested that the best thing we could do to prepare ourselves for a heated Christmas row was to practice what it was we were going to say to the vaccinated lefty and get the boot in first. A beginner’s course in martial arse would be advisable, which you will not be able to take without a vaccination passport. The prickless will just have to rely on the way they usually deal with conflict, which might mean falling back on those stress-relieving breathing exercises or, alternatively, unwrapping that baseball bat Christmas present ahead of the festivities.

Asking yourself questions like, “How do I usually approach conflict? What triggers my anger more than anything else?” won’t help any if the answer is a self-righteous vaccinated lefty, but at least you could say so, later, in court.

In the last and honest analysis, heated discussions have the unfortunate habit of breaking out when they want to, so nothing that you do to prevent one from happening will work, especially after you’ve stuffed yourself with mounds of grub, knocked back several G&Ts and swilled two bottles of red. The best thing to do is ditch the psychobabble and brace yourself for a bumpy ride. After all, it is Christmas, and a good old family bust-up is as traditional as wrapping the cat in holly and clipping a piece of mistletoe to the belt buckle of your trousers.

If the vaccinated do bring up the topic of vaccination, which they will, stay cool, be curious, pretend to listen to what the other person is saying, no matter how stupid it is, don’t jump to the right conclusions ~ keep them to yourself ~ and if all else fails offer the argumentative vaccinated more roast potatoes, using your roast potato mandate.

Just to ensure that there is no possibility of avoiding a family rift, which will divide the family for ever, you could always take the following steps.

Health advice on enduring Christmas with vaccinated family members (especially if they are liberal)

Don’t ask everyone to wear masks unless it is part of a silly Christmas party game

Apparently, some clown from a university in America has advised that if you are a vaccinated family inviting unvaccinated family members to join you on Christmas Day, you should insist that everyone wears masks, including children over two years of age. As there is no real evidence that masks are effective and, in fact, may do more harm than good, our advice is stick to the paper hats. They are a lot jollier and, unless you want to look especially stupid on your Christmas photos this year, more so than when wearing a paper hat, common sense and logic would suggest that what the gentleman from the university in America is telling you is a lot of unfortunate bollocks. Conversely, therefore, if you are an unvaccinated family and can think of no way out but to invite vaccinated relatives, by all means let them wear masks. Eating and drinking may be a little tricky for them, but at least by combining these activities with a mask the possibility of receiving a lecture on why you should be wearing one and choking along with them should be considerably reduced.

Ask vaccinated liberal guests to provide proof of a recent psychiatric test

The same man from the American university, Professor Twat, suggested that in the case of a vaccinated family inviting unvaccinated guests, the vaccinated should be ordered to take a lateral flow test? Why would anyone want to have their drains inspected just because its Christmas? Oh, yes, with all that gutsing and swilling it could be a good idea.

We suggest unvaccinated families inviting vaccinated guests not to be so stupid. We all know that vaccinations do not stop the spread of coronavirus but insulting the guests with apartheid-type requests prior to the big day could precipitate the very bust-up that you are trying to avoid, or at least save for later.

However, since we are led to believe that one in three people with Covid-19 do not have any symptoms, it is not inconceivable that one in three vaccinated family members might not show symptoms of voting Labour, although hard experience has taught us that asymptomatic Labour supporters are a very rare thing indeed. So just ask them to bring along proof of a recent psychiatric report on why they or anybody else for that matter would want to vote Labour and tell them as logically as you can that since they could be spreading the liberal virus without knowing it, testing themselves repeatedly, by reciting their doctrines in front of the mirror, might eventually lead to a full recovery from something they did not know that they had.

Try to limit the number of households

Professor T advises that limiting the number of people gathering at Christmas, especially the vaccinated, might not stop coronavirus spreading, but it will ‘sure as hell, boy!’ reduce the risk of someone getting punched on the snout. He fails to warn, however, that cherry picking who comes and who does not is a failsafe way of assuring that never again will the family be united. But then, isn’t this what it’s all about!

If possible, host events outside

With advice like this I hope to get a job as a UK government health advisor. But, as loony as it may sound, it is not without merit. As a method of avoiding coronavirus uptake by reducing the risk of airborne transmission it is spot on, especially if you are one of a group and you all sit upwind. Even better, however, is the possibility it offers for ‘dealing with’ that vaccinated liberal. It works whether your house has a garden or not. Just politely ask the vaccinated liberal to sit outside in the garden or, alternatively, on the pavement and close the door. If he or she is vaccinated, wearing a mask and you are treating him or her (or it, or other) to the six-foot distancing rule, there is nothing at all to complain of. Just make sure that the windows are closed, the double-glazing is of reasonable quality and pray for a fall of snow.

Lovely jubbly, job done. Now sit back and enjoy Christmas. You’ve earnt it!😌

Copyright © 2018-2022 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

Image attributions
Antiquarian Christmas card: TUCKDB // PUBLIC DOMAIN
Christmas balls: https://www.clipartmax.com/download/m2i8i8m2K9A0H7H7_free-holly-clipart-public-domain-christmas-clip-art-christmas-decorations-clipart/
Bear in snow: https://all-free-download.com/free-vector/download/winter_background_stylized_bear_flowers_falling_snow_icons_6837048.html

Reference
1. https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/christmas/unvaccinated-family-members-christmas-how-to-cope-b1977260.html

Don’t let that man spoil your vaccinated Christmas!

Don’t let that man spoil your vaccinated Christmas!

It’s beginning to look a lot less like Christmas

Published: 22 December 2021 ~ Don’t let that man spoil your vaccinated Christmas!

In a previous post, The Liberal Solution to Anti-vaxxers, I promised that I would turn left towards The Guardian (Guardian of what? You may well ask, young white man!), and place before you, for your learned consideration, a big, sickly dollop of icing from the cake which the liberals want to have and also want to eat. Liberty, freedom of choice, civil liberties;  or rules, regulations, restrictions ~ which is it to be?

The article in question, ‘Someone in my family won’t get the vaccine — should we still spend Christmas with them?1’ is one of those agony aunt respond-type pieces, and believe you me it is agonising.

Some bod writes into Auntie complaining about an awful relative who refuses to have the vaccine, so what should they do? This naughty, naughty man horrified them last Christmas, when Mr and Mrs Fully Vaxxed and their fully vaxxed family objected to his unvaccinated presence in their self-isolation unit, aka home, where he could easily infect them with coronavirus (But I thought you said that they were all fully vaccinated?) and bugger me if he’s not about to do it again!

Auntie Agony actually solves the dilemma in the first sentence. Tell him that as he does not want to be vaccinated to shove off. Most likely he would rather not spend Christmas huddled up in a mask looking like a broken bauble hanging on the terror tree anyway.  But the good advice from the Christmas tree fairy (bemasked, 6 feet away and fully vaccinated) suddenly becomes a vehicle for ‘Get Your Vaccination Now!’, citing all sorts of popular statistics, some pushed by some scientists, some pulled by others.

Shock and horror, however! The ‘refusenik’ (a liberal ‘thing’) as opposed to the ‘accept-twits’, may not be such a leper as the kids! For scientists tell us ~ those that have not been deplatformed ~ that children who have not been vaccinated, ie because they are too young, might be more dangerous Covid spreaders than the party-pooper with no prick.

Considering all the horrible stories coming out of the UK involving psychiatric-ward parents, we could venture that this is not the best time to demonise children in what might be misconstrued as an attempt to lower the age for mandatory vaccination, something surely which nobody, not even in their wildest liberal mind, would wish for?

Don’t let that man spoil your vaccinated Christmas!

In all fairness, one or two sensible points are made in this piece, but did they have to include that awful, cheesy stock photo of old middle-class gramps sitting in his armchair with a face mask wrapped around his mug, wearing that silly Christmas sweater whilst his granddaughter (One would hope it’s his granddaughter. He doesn’t work for the BBC, does he?) sits at the table unwrapping a Christmas present also happily swaddled in a regulation mug mask? It’s amazing what they put in Christmas crackers these days, isn’t it? Perhaps, not.

The Independent (Independent My Arse! Who said that?), not to be outgunned in the ‘let’s spoil Christmas for them’ department, ramps it up a notch with their own version of I’m Dreaming of a Vaccinated Christmas, with a similar article in which the family becomes a target for seasonal separatism along the divisive line of the ‘jabs’ and ‘jab nots’.

More about that later! 😂

Bedtime reading from The Lancet
COVID-19: stigmatising the unvaccinated is not justified
The Lancet is a peer-reviewed general medical journal published weekly. It is one of the world’s oldest and respected general medical journals.

Copyright [Text] © 2018-2023 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

Reference
1. https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2021/dec/10/someone-in-my-family-wont-get-the-vaccine-should-we-still-spend-christmas-with-them

Image attribution
Snow globe: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Snowman-in-crystal-ball-vector-illustration/25170.html

Coronavirus & The Ghosts of Christmas Past

Mick Hart’s Christmas Message from Russia (Not to be confused with the Queen’s Speech)

Published: 23 December 2020

When I see and read about the mushrooming angst as my fellow Brits try to come to terms with the first coronavirus Christmas in the UK, I breathe a sigh of relief that I am out of it. Lockdowns, tiers, enforced mask wearing, has any of it been proven to work? Is it just too complicated? Is it really a neoliberal plot to ‘crash the economy’? Most people that I know in the UK are following the advice of Frank Sinatra and doing it their way.

Here, in Russia, Christmas is not celebrated on the 25 December, it is celebrated on 7 January, since the Russian Orthodox Church uses the old ‘Julian’ calendar for days of religious celebrations. Under the Soviet Union, Russia was banned for the greater part of the 20th century from publicly celebrating Christmas. Christmas trees were singled out for special treatment. They were banned until the mid-1930s, at which time they made a comeback but rebranded as New Year Trees. Nobody thought to ask the trees what their opinion was.

This will be my first Christmas abroad, and the first time that I do not have to worry about how I should be celebrating it. I say ‘should’ be celebrating it as over the years I have reached the conclusion that Christmas is something that you have to celebrate, that you have to enjoy, that there is an onus on you, an unwritten but widely reinforced prejudice that Christmas must be enjoyed at all costs!  

It is not dissimilar to the rules of any other party. You know the scenario: you are sitting in the corner quietly enjoying a drink and some life and (R)soul of the party rushes up to you and says: “Come on, cheer up, it’s a party!”

Not that I am averse to Christmas. Looking back to my youth, up until about my 18th birthday, we had some wonderful family Christmases. Indeed, when I was young, and right up into my teens, I looked forward to it, and not just Christmas Day but the lead up as well.

Coronavirus & The Ghosts of Christmas Past

When we were children Christmas was celebrated in the grand Victorian style. It kicked off at primary school, with Christmas carols and discussions about the meaning of Christmas from our esteemed headmaster, Ben Rowbottom, a man who clearly enjoyed Christmas himself. We made Christmas cards out of bits of cardboard, waterpaint and tinsel, and sometimes an Advent calendar, which we could proudly then take home.

As a member of the church choir, I would have been warbling Christmas carols for at least a month before the Christmas festivities commenced. One year we also performed a nativity play in church, which was received with such accolades that it was impossible not to concede that I was a second Laurence Olivier in the making.

We would decorate the school, decorate our home, choose and buy a Christmas tree ~ a real one, of course ~ sit down night after night to write our Christmas cards and even look forward to the not insubstantial task of Christmas shopping. Ours was a large family, and when friends and friends’ families were factored into the present-buying equation, Christmas shopping became a laborious task, but in those days it was looked upon as a labour of love, which, indeed, it was.

One of the most exciting moments in the run-up to Christmas was going to the supermarket to buy the Christmas booze. As I have said, ours was a large family and over the Christmas period three or four family parties would be thrown. I had no problem with this: family parties were enjoyable, others, alas, were not. Besides, Christmas was the only time of the year my father really pushed the boat out; for the other 364 days the boat was on a tight rope and very secure in its mooring.

Everything was so simple and so enjoyable then, so much so that it was easy to believe that Father Christmas would continue to drop down the chimney, eat the mince pie and swig the glass of sherry left for him, before depositing our main presents around the tree in the front room and the rest in boxes around the bed, until I was 65. All we had to worry about in those days was trying to sound convincing when we opened the Christmas presents: “Just what I have always wanted! (Sorry? What did you say? I can’t hear you over the noise of this very loud Christmas jumper)”.

Although Father Christmas stopped plummeting down the chimney at about the time we started to drink in the village pub, at the age of 14, looking forward to Christmas carried on until and into my teen years. As a teenager, I would spend Christmas Day with the family and Boxing Day (appropriately named) with my Rushden friends, a dodgy salt-of-the-earth lot if ever there was one, drinking over the odds at The Welcome pub.

The landlord of The Welcome, Ernie, was a cheerful soul. I can see him now standing on the elevated platform behind the bar, which made him look twice as intimidating as he really was, peering at the occupants of the bench seats that ran along the window. Old people used to sit there, and it was fondly referred to as Death Row. Said Ernie, cynically, eyeing the people seated on Death Row. “I hope they enjoy their Christmas. I wouldn’t bother if I was them booking a summer holiday.”

Coronavirus & The Ghosts of Christmas Past

These were the heydays of Christmas for me, after which, I am sad to say, it was all downhill. Then I entered a period of truly lack-lustre Christmases and even more appalling New Year’s Eves. However, I did get a perverse pleasure out of the office Christmas parties whilst I was working in London. At this time, I was skiving in the publishing industry, living my life in my own soap opera.

Let me say immediately, however, that office Christmas parties are truly the pits. After an entire year incarcerated together on No-Love Island (the office), all those people, who on any other day cannot wait to get away from one another, are now concentrated in one room along with their oppressions, petty grievances, festering confrontations, envy, resentment and old scores to settle, together with unlimited supplies of the Demon Drink. It is bound to go horribly wrong. How could it not?

There are many tales that I could tell on this subject, but my favourite has to be the one when after throwing a lavish Christmas office party with no expense spared, ie our boss hired out the function rooms at London Zoo with pre-dinner drinks in the reptile house (no comment), the following day at work both my friend, who was the production manager, and I, were summoned to the boss’ office, wished a cheery Happy New Year and then peremptorily sacked. My friend’s behaviour at the Christmas party had not gone down too well, particularly when the paranoid management thought that he was reaching into his inside jacket pocket for a gun when in fact he was about to submit his written resignation. He always did like a drama!

All’s well that ends badly, as they should say, and it was good, in hindsight, that this door slammed shut. Sometimes, especially in the early days of your career, you need to dust the boot marks off the arse of your pants to find that new direction.

Coronavirus & The Ghosts of Christmas Past

In later years, my Christmases followed the downhill trend. I never had much time for New Year’s Eve in England. It is a cattle market.

Once, whilst in London, I went out on New Year’s Eve day, and started drinking early in the pubs around Borough Market, the idea being that I would have had enough by six o’clock, would go home, crash out and miss the midnight hullabaloo. All went well at first. I was in bed before midnight as planned, but at midnight sharp a firework display at the Working Men’s Club at the rear of our house woke me up. The daytime booze had worn off, and I was unable to get back to sleep until five o’clock in the morning: Bah Humbug & Bugger!

Fast forward to the early 20s of the 21st century. My wife had been invited to go to Paris for Christmas, and I did not want to go. I tried to explain to her that the Paris that she was dreaming off, the Paris of high culture, of little Parisian cafés and atmospheric nightclubs with cabaret and table service had been sentenced to death by Adolf; it limped on into the 1960s and had since been swept away by the EU’s culture-destroying multicult tsunami.  In short, the Paris of the past was no more. Like many other capital cities in the western world, it had been stripped of its heritage character and consigned to a predictable, unpleasant and ironic homogeneity. My wife learnt the hard way and wished she had never gone.

Nevertheless, off she went leaving me to spend Christmas Day alone (nice thing to do to your husband, isn’t it!).  I spent it sitting in our antique shop office, watching through the security cameras as families and friends rolled up at our neighbour’s for Christmas. It was a surreal experience, made more so by the beans on toast I had for Christmas lunch. It felt as if the world was having a Christmas party and I had not been invited. In a word, it was blissful.

This time last year I was in England, staying with a friend. It was just the two of us. Christmas day brought brilliant sunshine. We went to the pub. The streets were deserted and even without coronavirus constraints the Banker’s Draft in Bedford was exceedingly quiet.

Coronavirus & The Ghosts of Christmas Past: The Banker's Draft, Bedford, UK
Mick Hart, Christmas Day 2019 in the Banker’s Draft, Bedford, wondering whether he had travelled forward in time to Christmas 2020?

The pub shut promptly at two o’clock, and the only people on Bedford’s High Street were two young Polish workers. I knew that look and that feeling: They had obviously had a damned good drinking session the night before, were well hungover and in need of a fix.

When they asked us which pubs were open, this was a tough one. After all, this was England, the land of childlike opening hours. It had not been that long ago when we had been led to believe that British pubs would be adopting continental opening hours. Pubs, we had been told, would be open all day and, as a result, the country would sink into the abyss of chronic alcoholism, anti-social behaviour and unspeakable depravity. It never happened, possibly because with or without the extension to the licensing laws, it already had.

The pub we had just exited from was on the verge of closing for the day, and the Polish lads had posed us a difficult question, but then good old Wetherspoons sprang into my mind, and the Polish lads were saved.

Coronavirus & The Ghosts of Christmas Past: Bedford Hight Street, Christmas Day 2019
Bedford High Street, Christmas Day, 2019. Was this a rehearsal for this year’s Christmas lockdown?

My friend and I walked down to the Embankment in the hope that there might be some life there, but this wonderful old pub/hotel was as dark as Kipling’s chocolate cake, so there was nothing left to do but return to my friend’s house for a makeshift Christmas lunch. Luckily, our last bid gambit paid off. The nearby Ship was open, and open until 5pm.

Embankment Hotel, Bedford (2019).

I must confess that, with the exception of when I was young, Christmas has always been problematic for me. I’m not a Knees-up Mother Brown type, loathe loud, vulgar and jostling pubs and avoid parties like the plague.

In the run up to Christmas, the UK becomes a truly awful place. The pubs are packed, usually with a surfeit of people who, thankfully, you never see at any other time of the year. Drunken hysteria sets in, anti-social behaviour rockets, every street corner has a pool of vomit on it and all sense of dignity and social etiquette ~ what is left of it ~ runs for cover. I have never been able to fathom whether this Bedlam, this parody of a Victorian lunatic asylum, is the product of mass excitement leading into Christmas Day or mass despair as the anti-climax approaches. There is little doubt, however, that the hysteria stems from 12 months of wage-slave institutionalisation. At the end of the year, those who have slaved to make money for their bosses are given a two-week holiday to spend the money that they have managed to save in a bumper spending spree that will line the pockets of a privileged few. What does it matter if the masses all drink more, too much, and what is a bit of bad behaviour as long as it oils their purses and wallets and keeps those Christmas tills jangling!

This year even the Bah Humbugs have been deprived of their anti-pleasure. By all that is written and read, this year Brits face a Christmas so monstrous, so unbelievably harsh that even Scrooge himself would welcome the ghost of Christmas Past.

I know that you won’t believe this, but I am often accused of being one of that fraternity who regards half a glass of beer as being half empty and not half full, but I would argue otherwise. This festive season, for example, with its tiers, lockdowns, bubbles, restrictions, limitations … is truly a Christmas with a difference. It is the first Christmas of its kind, and may we hopefully say the last, so just try to look at it this way: You are taking part in history. You are living through an event which will be a source of nostalgic fascination and intellectual examination by generations to come. You are a living piece of history about which someone, somewhere out there in the future even now beyond your grave is already examining, re-examining and writing about ‘that difficult time’, the 2020s. They are digging for the truth and History will judge …

Thus, this is not just any old Christmas — it is the contentious coronavirus Christmas of the Year of Our Lord 2020. And when you think of it like this, somehow it seems to put everything clearly into perspective …

Skelet saying Happy Christmas to customers of our antique shop.
Our Skelet wishing customers Happy Christmas 2017.

🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️Misinformation or simply mis-management? Mixing in Pubs & at Home Illegal!

Feature image: ‘Marley’s Ghost’ in the Public Domain
[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%27Scrooge_and_the_Ghost_of_Marley%27_by_Arthur_Rackham.jpg] {Link inactive as at 12/04/2022]

Copyright © 2018-2022 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.