We are well into November, which means it’s fair game for every food and beverage maker to re-brand for Christmas.
If you ain’t sipping or scoffing from something red and covered in snowflakes this lunchtime, then you’ve slipped through the space time continuum back to October.
Though my hardened cynical side bristles at rampant bandwagon rodeo riding, I do love Christmas.
Even the advert with the big light-covered Coke truck makes me smile. And as I never drink the stuff, I still have teeth to smile with.
Christmas is bright and twinkly and I need that as it gets darker, colder, and soggier.
That little red hit of Xmas anticipation makes me feel I can face walking to a meeting during a rain soaked DLR strike.
The fairy lights of subliminal seasonal marketing tell us a year’s worth of office slog in Canary Wharf will be worth it for those few precious days of back-to-back Elf viewing and Quality Street.
Not long until I can stay in bed, like a pig in a blanket, all day. Holidays are coming, holidays are coming.
But there is a limit to my willingness to be a seasonal strumpet.
I will accept your red cups and your snowman covered chocolate bars, but once you start pushing the boundaries of sentimental twee, I’m out.
I don’t want a Nut Roast Latte, Honeyed Ham Hot Chocolate, a Sprout and Brandy Butter Bap or whatever horror holiday combination you’ve conjured as a knowing nod to Christmas.
A hipster Pulled Turkey Sandwich (and you know there will be one), is not cool.
November, what started as festive fun, fast becomes the nightmare before Christmas.
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