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This time of year means different things to different people. For religious folks, the significance is clear. For almost everyone else (and even for some Christians too), it tends to be one big shopping fest gone too far, with contentment coming more in the gifts exchanged than in the company of those we’re doing it with.
Why do I leave always Christmas shopping to the very last minute? That’s right, because I’m a man, and that’s what we do, and because there are only about 5 people that I absolutely must buy something for lest the entire relationship be put in jeopardy. I don’t enjoy it. It’s best described as a military operation for me:
Continuing my series on the good old annual Christmas Market stationed in the grounds of Belfast’s City Hall, I am happy to report that it is indeed back again this year and as expected, merry and frolicking like some drunken relative on Boxing Night (only, quite incredibly, the market closes a week before Christmas).
They say the magic disappears from Christmas once you’re all old, cold hearted and awkward. I would say it’s only the ideals which change. At the most basic level, it involves eating plenty of delicious food, watching old movies you wouldn’t ordinarily devote two seconds to, and generally getting very tubby sitting about.
Dublin is expensive and smelly. I saw one street I liked, and it was inhabited by bums. There’s a completely pointless, gigantic point in the middle of O’Connell Street – I believe it’s called the Spine. They have no Christmas decorations and way too many odd looking doors. But surroundings weren’t the most important thing.
My task for the day is to drag myself a laborious 80 miles south to Dublin Airport. By the end, i’ll be as tired and jet-lagged as someone who’s travelled 6,000. I have no real idea when I’m going to head, but I suddenly get the urge at around 4.00pm. The next bus departs at 4.30. So, we dart through the streets of Belfast in record time.
Queens University was like a ghost town while every inch of Belfast City Centre was being wrestled over by frenzied masses. The market is gone. The chaos is here. It truly is the last Friday before Christmas. But despite the mayhem, I was able to get everything done, and with enough time to spare for some Bowling and banter with friends.
There have been two recurring themes this week: work, and the Scrooge inducing build up to Christmas. Nah, it’s not that bad really. But the hype does seem to be starting earlier every year. Unrelated, the 10th floor of Queens Library is sick of me by the time the week is out – as are the History students whose desk I’m stealing.
