That’s it. The tree is down, the cards removed, the festive flowers have finally faded… apart from a token branch of pine and a poinsettia that are still hanging in there, determined to make it to Twelfth Night and the end of Christmastide.
Normality, such as it is around here, is restored to my home for another three hundred and thirty-odd days Normality hadn’t really gone anywhere… it just pranced around wearing tinsel for a while, assuming a disguise of frivolity, while underneath the mask it continued its inexorable gnawing at the skirting-board of time.
The supermarket shelves still sport their Christmas goods, though now they are attended by ‘clearance’ signs while Easter Bunnies and chocolate eggs take pride of place already. This too is normal… the Twelve Days of Christmas mean nothing to the giants of retail who worship the Profit of the great god Mammon.
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