The run-up to Christmas has been as painful as Glenn McGrath’s after he trod on that crickey ball last summer (why couldn’t he oblige a few weeks ago?) hence the absence of posts. Having traipsed round the Trafford Centre two days running, twice my annual allowance, and I hadn’t much will left for anything else.
But as we sat down to our festive Indian takeaway tonight, the telly ads away in the corner, we did discuss why, three days early, all the ads were about Boxing Day furniture sales. Time was such commercials would not appear until the alms boxes were opened.
That led us on to tv programmes in general and why so few, other than the churchy ones, explain the true meaning of our Christmas. The one that tells us why a pagan mid-winter festival was hijacked by Roman converts that has landed us with 25 December as a day of celebration, at least that was Master P’s argument.
A vague bell rang. The one that said Jesus had a brother, James, plus an extended family. That seems more true to me than an only child. But then I’m no theologian. I do believe that Jesus existed as a person, though whether prophet, saviour, poet or fool has to be proven for me.
“Hufty, chufty,” as my daughter would say. Still worth reading this leader about swaddling clothes. And to all my loyal reader!
Christmas QI fact no. 4: The Three Wise Men didn’t turn up on Boxing Day or even by New Year. Jesus was a child when they clumped in on their camels with their Frankincense and Myrrh. I might have been the other one who couldn’t be arsed and thought, “We’ll give him the money this year.”