Another tin of sweets? Sure why not, it’s Christmas... |
IT’S officially time to pull out the well-worn phrase “Sure, why not? It’s Christmas!” while we finally enjoy the calorific content of anything we put in our mouths without the usual side order of guilt.
As a recovering 90s child from a “Don’t eat those! They’re for Christmas!” household, I’ve overcompensated in adulthood by rewarding myself with all the biscuits I can eat at any time of the day or night between December 20 and January 2 – because nobody starts the diet on New Year’s Day when there’s still a tin of Celebrations left.
As a recovering alcoholic who endeavours to make Christmas memorable for all the right reasons, now that I know I’ll remember, I treat the food shop as a sacred rite, where my trolley shall end as a little cornucopia fit for a queen, in honour of our Lord’s birthday.
The ritual is layered with more drama than an Eastenders Christmas special, from picking a cheese selection controversial enough to start a family WhatsApp feud, to debating whether to live dangerously and try the new stuffing mix that claims to be “artisan” but probably tastes like regret.
Brian Feeney: Mess with rights, Jim, and you’re messing with the Good Friday Agreement