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| You tell 'em Johnny. I'm at my wits end with all the misdirection and spin. |
At the time of writing I am reliably informed that the Prime Minster is going to attempt to get support for a General Election. It would be in December - reports say he wants the 12th but then commentators say he has no say in the eventual date, besides, he's already rejected the Lib Dem/SNP suggestion of a 9th December election over the weekend - and it will be voted upon in Parliament at some point later today. Reports also say that the Opposition will vote it down.
1. Make a Cake
This recipe by Nigella is the simplest fruit cake I've ever made. All done in one pan and then baked, it requires a fraction of the effort of more traditional methods. (Like, there's no need to prong the cake with a knitting needle to add the rivulets of sherry to the month-old fruit cake, unless that sort of thing rocks you boat.) I make two of these every year. One to eat from November onwards, and then one for an actual Christmas cake. It provides a shed load more sensory satisfaction than another round of soon-to-be broken promises and spinning bluster.
2. Buy Fairy Lights
Any evening is enlivened by the inclusion of fairy lights. When I was a kid there was one string, kept in the loft, that was ritualistically untangled at the start of each December. Now, they are sold all over the show. The Internet provides year-round twinkles in a gazillion different formats. Chillis, flowers, multicoloured, clear, battery, outdoor, solar - literally anything you want you can get. And all for cheap too. You know you want to. It's a much better use of your time.
3. Dust off Christmas CDs
I was filled with horror about seven seconds ago when I realised that my new car has no CD slot. Since I listen to my Christmas CD on every car journey as soon as the clocks change, this has caused some consternation. On the plus side, this means that not only can I get with the times, I can also look forward to a happy evening, compiling my Ultimate Christmas Playlist. One that will effortlessly sync with my dashboard. Every cloud and all that.
4. Compile the Seasonal TV Viewing
The Christmas Radio Times usually hits the shops in the first week or so of December. Wouldn't it be marvellous to spend a full evening of highlighting that, instead of watching
5. Schedule Festive Drinks with People You Only See in December
The older I've got, the more this happens. Friendships that are glued together via Whatsapps and Facebook likes, get real in December. Last year I had four nights out in a row during the week before Christmas.** Like I was seventeen! I loved it but it also broke me. I now know from experience that I need SAS-style endurance training before that level of socialising kicks in again. But at least I won't be wasting time reading opinion pieces and deciphering vote share graphs.
6. Wish You'd Started Your Pre-Xmas Diet in July
This happens every year. The jacket I'd like to wear to the work's Christmas do, does not currently fit me. Instead of doing something about that, I will assume that if I just wish hard enough by the time the evening comes, it will be fine. Then, when it is not fine, there will be a last minute dash to a retail park on the day of the night out. I will throw money at a replacement item that will be worn once, and then charity binned because it was always second best to the jacket that still won't fit me. But still. It's what December is all about. Imagine if I had to go and vote at the same time. Madness.
7. Add Cranberry Sauce to Standard Sunday Dinners
It doesn't matter that this is technically possible all year round, it just doesn't happen. But come December, I buy a jar of cranberry and add it to every chicken and gravy based meal I consume. Like a dog, cranberry sauce is not just for Christmas. Rule breaker? Rebel? Anarchist? I couldn't possibly comment. And get this. Not only do I pimp up my Sunday dinners this way, I don't even stick to cranberry. Not me. Ever the rebel, I've currently got lingonberry on the go. Imagine if I were too busy getting riled up by Question Time to remember to stick two fingers up to the system. Imagine.
8. Self-Care
Look. The twelfth month of the year is fraught enough. Christmas cards, gift shopping, working out how fit an increasingly growing family around a table that remains resolutely the same size - it's all mad enough. I honestly can't begin to think about throwing an election into the mix. Not for the first time do I think that the country is experiencing one long acid trip with no end in sight. Long baths, chunks of time away from social media, and brisk winter walks might be the thing to focus on. Or movies, books, and video games. Or booze and drugs, I don't know. Whatever floats you boat. (Don't break the law kids, I was just being silly.) Whatever ends up happening, whether this December election idea is just another of Johnson's dead cats, or whether it gets seriously considered for five minutes, it will all be dismissed the second another distraction comes along. Let's keep December for the December things, and boot elections back to the first part of the year where they belong. There are just too many fun things to do instead.
Have a lovely week, folks.
*Today's title will be recognised by a specific age of reader. If you are UK based and consider yourself a Xennial (post-Generation X, pre-Millenial) then you will remember the popular summer holiday TV programme of Why Don't You. The inspired lyrics to the theme tune seemed particularly relevant.
Ok. They don't mention elections once. But still. Wise words to live by, probably. Do something less boring in December because before you know it, it'll be January.
**To be fair, I see all all those people in that calendar throughout the year too. But it certainly gets frenzied as December kicks in. Imagine fitting in a bunch of politics too.
Here's the thing. Let's park party politics to one side for five minutes and think about this sensibly. I don't care whether this is politically savvy for the Oppostition, or tactical and calculating from the Government. None of that matters. What does matter, is that there are approximately 5764678 more enjoyable things to do in December than read about, campaign for, and vote in a General Election. Probably more than that, to be honest. And I'm someone that under normal circumstances, loves the opportunity to get my vote on. But December? No ta. Let's think of the logistics for a second. A man with whom I have more than a passing acquaintance, put it pretty succinctly on Twitter last week.
'If a December #election does happen, anyone who works on the ground campaign in any capacity for any political party has my upmost sympathy!'Wise words. Hours outside in the cold, knocking on the doors of people who don't fancy opening their minds to persuasive political natter whilst their central heating escapes from their open front door. Bleak is the word. Bleak and grim. But take heart. This blog will be out of date in five minutes. The second a General Election is voted down, December is freed up for all of us to enjoy, in as traditional a way as possible. The campaigning, debating, pub-arguing, article-reading, Twitter thread-ingesting, and winter walking to the polling booth can be saved for another day. With a December GE avoided, here's what joys we can fill the month with instead.
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| Fill your house with the smell of oranges and cinnamon instead of reading op-eds about the likelihood of another hung parliament. |
This recipe by Nigella is the simplest fruit cake I've ever made. All done in one pan and then baked, it requires a fraction of the effort of more traditional methods. (Like, there's no need to prong the cake with a knitting needle to add the rivulets of sherry to the month-old fruit cake, unless that sort of thing rocks you boat.) I make two of these every year. One to eat from November onwards, and then one for an actual Christmas cake. It provides a shed load more sensory satisfaction than another round of soon-to-be broken promises and spinning bluster.
 |
| Fairy lights provide a much stronger inner glow than Jeremy Vine pratting about with interactive graphics through in the early hours. Priorities people. |
Any evening is enlivened by the inclusion of fairy lights. When I was a kid there was one string, kept in the loft, that was ritualistically untangled at the start of each December. Now, they are sold all over the show. The Internet provides year-round twinkles in a gazillion different formats. Chillis, flowers, multicoloured, clear, battery, outdoor, solar - literally anything you want you can get. And all for cheap too. You know you want to. It's a much better use of your time.
 |
| Fair ye well, old fashioned music provider. You have seen me right these many years. |
I was filled with horror about seven seconds ago when I realised that my new car has no CD slot. Since I listen to my Christmas CD on every car journey as soon as the clocks change, this has caused some consternation. On the plus side, this means that not only can I get with the times, I can also look forward to a happy evening, compiling my Ultimate Christmas Playlist. One that will effortlessly sync with my dashboard. Every cloud and all that.
4. Compile the Seasonal TV ViewingThe Christmas Radio Times usually hits the shops in the first week or so of December. Wouldn't it be marvellous to spend a full evening of highlighting that, instead of watching
Kuenssberg and her mates try to jolly us through the cognitive dissonance of a winter exit poll.
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| Last year's December. Definitely a marathon not a sprint. |
The older I've got, the more this happens. Friendships that are glued together via Whatsapps and Facebook likes, get real in December. Last year I had four nights out in a row during the week before Christmas.** Like I was seventeen! I loved it but it also broke me. I now know from experience that I need SAS-style endurance training before that level of socialising kicks in again. But at least I won't be wasting time reading opinion pieces and deciphering vote share graphs.
 |
| Searching for a last minute outfit. The struggle is real. Every year. |
This happens every year. The jacket I'd like to wear to the work's Christmas do, does not currently fit me. Instead of doing something about that, I will assume that if I just wish hard enough by the time the evening comes, it will be fine. Then, when it is not fine, there will be a last minute dash to a retail park on the day of the night out. I will throw money at a replacement item that will be worn once, and then charity binned because it was always second best to the jacket that still won't fit me. But still. It's what December is all about. Imagine if I had to go and vote at the same time. Madness.
 |
| Lingonberry sauce makes me feel all Scandi and Nordic. I am Sarah Lund, Birgitte Nyborg, and Petra Mede all rolled into one. |
It doesn't matter that this is technically possible all year round, it just doesn't happen. But come December, I buy a jar of cranberry and add it to every chicken and gravy based meal I consume. Like a dog, cranberry sauce is not just for Christmas. Rule breaker? Rebel? Anarchist? I couldn't possibly comment. And get this. Not only do I pimp up my Sunday dinners this way, I don't even stick to cranberry. Not me. Ever the rebel, I've currently got lingonberry on the go. Imagine if I were too busy getting riled up by Question Time to remember to stick two fingers up to the system. Imagine.
8. Self-Care
Look. The twelfth month of the year is fraught enough. Christmas cards, gift shopping, working out how fit an increasingly growing family around a table that remains resolutely the same size - it's all mad enough. I honestly can't begin to think about throwing an election into the mix. Not for the first time do I think that the country is experiencing one long acid trip with no end in sight. Long baths, chunks of time away from social media, and brisk winter walks might be the thing to focus on. Or movies, books, and video games. Or booze and drugs, I don't know. Whatever floats you boat. (Don't break the law kids, I was just being silly.) Whatever ends up happening, whether this December election idea is just another of Johnson's dead cats, or whether it gets seriously considered for five minutes, it will all be dismissed the second another distraction comes along. Let's keep December for the December things, and boot elections back to the first part of the year where they belong. There are just too many fun things to do instead.
Have a lovely week, folks.
*Today's title will be recognised by a specific age of reader. If you are UK based and consider yourself a Xennial (post-Generation X, pre-Millenial) then you will remember the popular summer holiday TV programme of Why Don't You. The inspired lyrics to the theme tune seemed particularly relevant.
Why don't you?
Why don't you?
Why don't you?
Why don't you?
Why don't you?
Just switch off your television set
And go out and do something less boring instead.
So why don't you?
Why don't you?
Why don't you?
Why don't you?
Go go go!
Ok. They don't mention elections once. But still. Wise words to live by, probably. Do something less boring in December because before you know it, it'll be January.
**To be fair, I see all all those people in that calendar throughout the year too. But it certainly gets frenzied as December kicks in. Imagine fitting in a bunch of politics too.
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