Sunday 25th December 2011
BOWL of cereal with a cup of tea; followed by sausage, bacon, scrambled egg, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, fried bread; followed by several slices of toast, thickly spread with butter, some with added marmalade, others with honey, raspberry or strawberry jam; followed by hot, strong coffee and a cigar: December 25th menu.
There is no knowing at what hour will I sit down to this gustatory and gluttonous blow-out. It is a moveable feast.
No sensible person sets an alarm clock today… do they?
There’ll be telephone calls from family members and a couple of close friends. We will share the gifts of chit-chat and laughter, but the day will usually pass by unhurriedly, without fear or favour.
I may read, do some writing, bathe, watch a film, listen to music.
Having no religious faith, I won’t be visiting a place of worship; nor will I tune in to hear the words of the monarch; nor will I be popping out to the shops: the rites of ConsumerMass ended yesterday, thankfully.
However, having learned from an experience twenty-odd years ago – when I spent three days fasting on a bench at the end of the street – I shall take particular pleasure in an act of counter-propagandist civil disobedience when, shortly, I go out to Occupy the town centre.
I won’t be setting up a tent, marching in protest, or holding a one-person General Assembly on the steps of the parish church, but I will be cycling through all the red lights and going down all the one-way streets in an illegal direction.
Some would call it eccentricity. I think of it as claiming back the day; as freedom from brainwashing; a gesture of defiance; a symbolic act against the terrorism that makes us fearful of others by demanding we all behave like everybody else.
My younger daughter will be here later. We may play a word game or two; or just chill.
And tomorrow, she and I will cook a meal for my older daughter and her family. I’ll wash up, be teased by three granddaughters, and maybe have an afternoon snooze.
Such is bliss.