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As I so dramatically found out 6,000 miles away in dank summer smog of Hong Kong, my Brother Craig triumphed gloriously in his final semester exams and thus would Graduate with a highly respectable and deeply deserved 2,1 in Computer Science. All that was left for him to do was attend the prestigious ceremony at Queens University and have us, his family, accompany him.
While the Isle of Man may only lie 30 miles from the coastline of County Down, I was already the grand old age of 21 by the time I’d set foot on its shores for the first time. A further four years would then pass before I’d have that priviledge again. The rationale on this occasion wasn’t so much for sightseeing purposes, but rather for the Christening of my young cousin Joshua.
This time of year means different things to different people. For religious folks, the significance is clear. For almost everyone else (and even some Christians), 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. But whoever you are, there are still many unrivalled pleasures.
The Northern Irish countryside is something I appreciate more with every day of good weather that goes by. But then it’s easy to like anywhere when the weather is pleasant. I headed to Scrabo for lunch with some relatives. The idea was the second of two late Birthday celebrations – all for my good old self. No one heard me complaining. It was great that they made the effort.
They say the magic disappears from Christmas once you’re all old 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. Maybe even pretending to enjoy the Queen’s Speech by the Christmas tree.
