Now we’re in December I can feel the world around me getting Christmassy. Poppy’s recently moved in with Leftwing Idiot and they’ve just put their tree up. My mum’s made me an incredible advent calendar which I’m enjoying each morning, and preparations are well under way at work for our big end-of-year party.
But this morning my tics noticed that not everyone is brimming with Christmas cheer:
“Lamp-post, where’s your tinsel?”
“Lamp-post, swap the pigeon shit for robin shit, it’s more Christmassy.”
“Lamp-post, shall we imagine you’re the Christmas star?”
“Lamp-post, you’d look good in a Santa hat.”
The lamp-post, stoical as ever, took no notice. With his head wobbling gently from side-to-side a little in the breeze it looked almost as if he was shaking it in quiet disapproval at the flurry of Christmas spirit.
“Do they know it’s Christmas in a cattery in Essex?”