So this is Christmas, , and what have you done, another year over and a new one just begun And so this is Christmas,I hope you have fun, the near and the dear ones, the old and the young
Words that echo through out the years from a young, naive sprig of lad looking on Princes Street at bright lights of Edinburgh, looking in awe at how big the world was as if that moment was a pivotal point in my life that I must return to each year. As type I can feel the cold of that evening when I heard the words of John Lennon waft through the air as clear as glass (or noticed it). I return to the innocence of that youth when the world was so very simple, right was right and wrong was wrong and people were class heroes or traitors, I return not because I am depresed, but rather as a measure of where I am in relation to that scared young lad who was afraid of nothing (don't you just love contrtadictions) - a touchstone if you will. It is a fixed point in time, and I wonder if I will ever say goodbye to that lad, I wonder if I can ever recapture the good of that time, I do not get depressed at Christmas, but most years it is something I have to endure along with many other people - so why do I do it each year, why not just opt out, well because ..... well I love Christimas, there is so much more that I love about Christmas than I hate about it, I love the people aspect of it all, the chaos and coming together of it all, the shared experience of an enforced closure sometimes I wish we could make it Christmas every day, yet something I wish could be avoided.
Yes it is Chrismas again, and no matter how hard I try staring it down each year it comes, swiftly and wiith a vengence; normally it is this time of year (22nd December) I decide that Chistmas has won again and I just capitulate and accept that I will be writing grovelling letters and emails to peope who will not get a Christmas Card (again!) and scurry around for some presents that may be appropriate for people, or at least will not be offended with (yes I know I am male and this is only to expected and the fact that I am starting this process on 22nd December indicates I must be gay!) and then try and wrap presents, which always looks like I have spent about 39 seconds trying), eventually I force myself to visit the 'ex' to deliver his present. In my defence I do start planning Christmas around October into November, it just that it seems too early to buy presents and send cards in early December!
Anyhow I am on the move and just doing a 358 mile round trip to deliver presents and Mince Pies to my `ex` who has moved to Manncheser (I live in Swindon), but this is the fun bit, this is the bit I love, this is when Christmas! is fun, to see a swaithe of the population displace themselves iin a act of love and compassion for the people they hold dear ad close, I love the communal sense of expectation and adventure we take ourselves out into the realm of the social, and onto the realm of the 'other'- of other people and other lives, aand other
I have just arrived at Biirmiingham International and the train will empty with the travellers hopiing to leave for the season,and more people will join for their journey towards Manchester the human traffic the same every year, just different faces and different stories, all together for a celebration of something that most do not beleive in, but the zeitgeist more than compels them to celebrate the birth of the Christ child.
To see the hoardes of men, women and children migrate from their familiar surrounding for a few days (and obviously the reserve) says to me Christmas has come in! To me it s almost as if the population is re-enacting the Nativity, the displacement of Mary and Joseph (either the historical or cultural figures depending on your viewpoint) from their home, with the all the issues of logistics, finance, and accommodation. The parallels go on in Berthelem, now almost a internment camp, of the fear that must of have there at that time, the vioilence, the belligerent regime that is there this Christmas, but then again that is politics, and politics will always be here with us and not the place in this blog.
So this is Christmas, and what have done …
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
29 December 2010
01 November 2010
Three Minutes ...
It occurred to me once whilst I was World War 2 enactment last year that during the 'minute’s silence' (reflection on the irony of this event must be the subject of another blog!) that I had done this before.
The first time was for the 7/11 bombing in New York, I was on Victoria Station and at 11am Clock it just went silent, a few people carried on walking, but the bustling station just 'stopped' and it was as if the world had stopped just for a minute, a look of disgust given to those who were 'too busy' - and it was literally just one or two – how carried on walking and chatting because they were just too busy, on unconcerned about the moment. A time to reflect and a time to think about what had happened, a 'stop' as we considered the enormity of the devastation and the tragedy; a downloading of the horror of the event, a pause in the daily intake of information The silence was the same as that for the eclipse in 1999, a deathly hush that swept all before it
The second time was the death of the Queen Mother, a time of respect and of the events that had transpired in her life, two wars, marriages, divorces, bombing, and death, a time to mark the passing of the era. It was almost a moment to mark the passing of an era that had died with the Queen Mother, never to be regained again in a world that had raced on, where social hierarchy was based on breeding not wealth, that beggared respect for elders and ladies, that was polite was deferred to others, to the new one of ‘me’ and myself. One girl in the office, too young to remember the ‘old ways’ asking 'what are you supposed to think about' during the silence, again this was on the railway, and it stopped.
The third was last 'Armistice Day', and I stood silently at my desk I noticed that I was the only person, to some people the time had slipped by, busy in the moment, and in my job that in understandable, to others it seemed that the photocopying was more important. It was a moment that slipped by, unnoticed, the flow of information rushing all over, the minute lost.
A minute, 60 seconds, this time should be inconvenient, awkward, significant, it should make us stop for a minute, 60 second, to stop, ingest, and be a point in our day that is surrounded a constant rush, a moment to consider our priorities, our outlook, and remember.
One minute, sixty seconds ...
The first time was for the 7/11 bombing in New York, I was on Victoria Station and at 11am Clock it just went silent, a few people carried on walking, but the bustling station just 'stopped' and it was as if the world had stopped just for a minute, a look of disgust given to those who were 'too busy' - and it was literally just one or two – how carried on walking and chatting because they were just too busy, on unconcerned about the moment. A time to reflect and a time to think about what had happened, a 'stop' as we considered the enormity of the devastation and the tragedy; a downloading of the horror of the event, a pause in the daily intake of information The silence was the same as that for the eclipse in 1999, a deathly hush that swept all before it
The second time was the death of the Queen Mother, a time of respect and of the events that had transpired in her life, two wars, marriages, divorces, bombing, and death, a time to mark the passing of the era. It was almost a moment to mark the passing of an era that had died with the Queen Mother, never to be regained again in a world that had raced on, where social hierarchy was based on breeding not wealth, that beggared respect for elders and ladies, that was polite was deferred to others, to the new one of ‘me’ and myself. One girl in the office, too young to remember the ‘old ways’ asking 'what are you supposed to think about' during the silence, again this was on the railway, and it stopped.
The third was last 'Armistice Day', and I stood silently at my desk I noticed that I was the only person, to some people the time had slipped by, busy in the moment, and in my job that in understandable, to others it seemed that the photocopying was more important. It was a moment that slipped by, unnoticed, the flow of information rushing all over, the minute lost.
A minute, 60 seconds, this time should be inconvenient, awkward, significant, it should make us stop for a minute, 60 second, to stop, ingest, and be a point in our day that is surrounded a constant rush, a moment to consider our priorities, our outlook, and remember.
One minute, sixty seconds ...
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