There are sales in the shops, alongside the Christmas cards and mince pies. Last week there was talk of early snow; now it’s of late heatwave. There’s nothing predictable about our weather, save its unpredictability. I bought the yaktraxs and the sun came out. Causation, coincidence or just typical?
I like Christmas, but this early start turns me into a grumpy old curmudgeon; it’s only September for goodness sake. We have October, half term, hallowe’en, November, an academic selection transfer test and several birthdays to get through first. Maybe I’m meant to be happy that I don’t have to do Herself’s shopping this year. Maybe I will be, eventually.
Ignoring my reluctance, girls are beginning to scour catalogues and watch tv ads. Talk in the playground is moving towards lists and wishes and acquisition.
Every year I announce that I’m not getting caught up in it all, that I’m not overspending. Then I buy early, put things away carefully, and promptly forget about them. Then I buy more. It’s not pretty.
This year I’m going to embrace planning, and keep lists rather than crumpling them up in the bottom of a the other handbag. I’ll keep track of who’s getting what, what’s been got, and maybe even where I’ve put it.
Or maybe I’ll just curl up in front of the tv with a mince pie for another while …