Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without a nativity scene, inside a snowdome, featuring really odd-looking people. Photo: Sally Hopman.
Dear Santa,
Just a couple of things, please.
- I’d like world peace and another puppy, not necessarily in that order.
- No more brown snakes please, or at least encourage them to go to someone else’s place. I have broken too many laundry baskets/rakes/blunt instruments throwing them at said snakes. Also, why are they always lying around the clothesline when I have arms full of washing, pegs in my mouth and dogs at my heels? I thought about asking you for a gun for Christmas but that might lead to other things. Like criminal charges.
- No snorting noises when folk go in for seconds, thirds or fourths of the pav. After all, as a dish, it meets all the dietary requirements of dairy, fruit, eggs and veggies – if you decorate it with broccoli flowers.
- Ban Kardashians from breeding, Michael Buble and/or Celine Dion from Christmas albums and TV stations from showing Love Actually, again.
- Thank you for making this the perfectly acceptable time to add to my snowdome collection – not that I collect them or anything, especially not ones involving nativity scenes with Baby Cheeses. But if I did, it would make a refreshing change not to have to lie by saying they’re for my child. It also makes a change to buy a snowdome that actually warrants having snow in it, unlike the ones someone I may know has from those snowy capitals like Broken Hill, Uluru and the Gold Coast.
- For Bob Dylan to get his voice back. Or at least stop touring so idiots like me don’t continue to go to his concerts only to be disappointed that he can no longer sing and play guitar. But he is consistent, always showing complete contempt for his audience, unlikely to know which town he is actually in and performing his most famous songs in a way you can barely recognise. Yep, it’s back to the stereo to listen to that 1962 classic, his first album called, sensibly, Bob Dylan, where he sounds like he used to.
- So, egg nog? What’s the point? Eggs and nogs? Who was the yoker who reckoned those two should ever meet? Cracks me up.
Snowdome. Photo: Sally Hopman.
- So why do we only get the Queen’s message at Christmas? Why not a message from the corgi feeders, the woman who wears the Queen’s shoes in for her or the bloke who puts the toothpaste on Prince Charles’ toothbrush? (How do we know these people really exist? Duh. I read it in one of those magazines they have at the supermarket checkout for you to read while you’re waiting to be served. Every word a gem, gospel truth.)
- Being the fount of all festive knowledge as you are, can you advise why we cook 43-course dinners on what is usually the hottest day of the year for people, some of whom we don’t actually like, who would prefer to continue liquid refreshment rather than go with some solids?
- And, finally, a thank you for making tinsel a “thing”. I have been petitioning for years to make it so, yet clearly one direction from you and I see it everywhere, in every colour as being perfectly acceptable in non-Mardi Gras times. Bless.
Christmas 2021? It’s a wrap.
Wishing you and yours fabulous festiveness. Be nice to each other and if you do indulge, do it in the privacy of your own home away from small children, sharp objects and, of course, don’t go (old) cold turkey.
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