With the brilliant mixture of humour and insight which makes the Beaker Folk blog absolutely unique, Eileen has written about the God’s of Christmas.
He’s a fairly useless god, is Santa. He builds up your hopes till Christmas Eve and then, like the hopes of snow in early December, he melts in the misty drizzle of an unseasonably warm Christmas morning. He is flattened by the on-rush of the worshippers of the great god New Year Sales, as they head for the websites after dinner on Christmas day.
And leaves another god in his wake. A little, quiet, unassuming one who sneaks in on Christmas Eve, unable even to speak at this stage, while everyone’s down the pub. Who isn’t embarrassed by his image deflating on people’s lawns in the run-down to Twelfth Night. Because he’s used to being ignored and forgotten, laughed at and jeered at – beaten and bruised. He sneaks in while we’re looking at big, bright, red Santa. But if you’re not careful he can stay well beyond Boxing Day.
Now go and read the whole piece.