Advent is a season of abstinence, I guess once upon a time it pretty much had to be, as there didn't use to be an abundance of food around here in December. I am reflecting on it. A period of abstinence will make the feast of Christ Mass so much more appreciated, Reflection ends with the thought that I shall start out with good intentions that will keep me going for a week. Tops.
Now that our family have families of their own, Christmas is different. Last couple of years Ray and I have volunteered with the worthy folk, this year we might just pull in a waif and do good to them. Last time we tried this, the waif ensured he was too blotto to come to be done good to, which was almost a relief. I have put out feelers at the Salvation Army, but it might well be that my regulars have re-connected with their people, or heard that Friends at Christmas are doing a meal with all the trimmings at the Mission, an occasion which I know will be livelier than dinner-on-your-best -behaviour here.
There's a growing thing about Big Name Christmas Adverts. I mention this as a matter of interest, do not ask me why, or, indeed, what. I am sticking to Netflix and the Beeb until New Year's Day.
Television advertising brings out the Scrooge in me.
I did see a funny posted by my friend Patsy, who is, like me, both a Labour Party Member AND a Roman Catholic 👍🏻😘✝ So a shared idea of what's amusing might be expected. I will source the photo and post it, eventually, but here's the gist: Dilliard's Department Store scrimped on proofreading their Christmas ad this year, and have invited Satan into their Christmas Grotto ...
Last Sunday was the feast of Christ the King. I love this one, A timely reminder just before the babe pops back into the manger, that the Eternal One doesn't stay there all year.
(Being a rather unorthodox Roman Catholic, the Eternal One embraces for me a universal concept of the Cosmos not a tiny God-in-a-box exclusive one. If you are a person of faith this will mean something, if you're not, skip this bit.)
Where was I? Momentarily distracted by a bright yellow helicopter hovering, very noisily, over my back garden. A quick examination of conscience turns up nothing actionable.
I ought to get moving. The grandchildren are due soon and there are things to be done.
Before I quit, as the great Dave Allen used to say,
"May your God go with you ... "
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