Home for Christmas

The fog really has been outrageous this Christmas. Heathrow was closed and the M4 was backed up as far as Earls Court. It took an age for us to reach the compact village on the outskirts of Cardiff from which my beloved husband hails. The fog enveloped our car from door to door. Upon our arrival on the outskirts of the village, Max commented on the ostentatious Christmas light displays on every house. It was not dissimilar to Disneyworld. Inflatable Santa’s seemed to be swinging from every roof, herds or reindeer thronged every garden.

‘They don’t care about the penguins and global warming in Wales’ observed Max.

‘It is a disgrace, tasteless in every sense of the word’, I agreed. ‘If they could see the effect of this excessive behaviour on the ski-ing this year in Austria, they would change their ways.’

Through the freezing fog, while stationary at a T-junction, we observed a large group of females wearing body glitter, fake tan, belt short skirts and belly tops, on their way out for the evening. Surely they damage their scalps using that quanitity of bleech? Maybe they do not feel the cold in Wales?

Perhaps that is why they have plugged fairy lights into every available socket – hoping that global warming will be well under way by closing time. I wonder if the females I observed will imminently sprout increased volumes of intimate hair as their bodies seek solutions for hypothermia? If they don’t sprout a bikini line the size of an Ikea bathmat – a small moustache on their top lips would be rather good. Why do they think Santa had a beard? Winter is cold - just in case no-one down here noticed!