As a rule, as those who know would tell you, I never mention Christmas before Halloween at the very least, however, I had to nip to Sainsburys this morning and whilst parking I ever so very gently, doofed the car in the space in front. It was hardly a ding at all, just an inconsequential meeting of metal.  However, the old gent that was snoozing inside, jolted awake, clutching his chest, as if he’d just been transported back to the beaches of Normandy on D day.


Out I leapt to profusely apologise but I realised, as I reached his car, that he looked a bit like Santa. Long white beard. Festively plump. Ruddy cheeks (which, might’ve been the raised blood pressure from the shock). ‘Fuck, I’ve killed Santa’ I murmured without moving my lips, just incase he lip-read through the window. Unbeknownst to me, however, some creeping Jesus with cotton wool shoes was right behind me and gave me an odd look as he passed. Nice. So now there’s a witness…
As it happens, the charming old Santa impersonator, told me ‘not to worry, it’s only a car after all’.  No harm done.  I stood, ungainly and made strained conversation with him, for an uncomfortably long time just to reassure myself that his BP wasn’t about to end him & hoping Mrs Claus would appear with her shopping but he began fidgeting about with his glasses case and pill bottles.  There’s my cue to piss off, I reckoned.

So I bade him a reluctant farewell and got on with my day with a moderately, opaque conscience.

Only 115 sleeps until Christmas.  

Hugely Annoying Link to Countdown Clock

I’m sure he’s fine kids ……

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