By the sixteenth of December i am now beginning to count down the days when this Christmas pressure is over...from now on until the twentyforth..each day will be hell with added spent bath water, soap suds crusted, old towels from old ghosts hanging from doors ajar... all these thoughts plays games across the cracks in my soul...this is my thirty third Christmas pushing Christmas cards through stuffed letterboxes, i have opened that many red pillar boxes my hands begin to feel raw....yet i just love this time of year..the time when the general public are glad to see you, some cross your palms with silver and forgive you for posting all the bills and perhaps junk mail through out the year....onto their door mats....cards that travel the world the hand written scrawl perhaps scribbled in hot summers...forlorn cards sent with the sender not knowing..that the house is empty and the once happy smiling face now cold and clod underneath the leaf mould are always the hardest to push through...Children are perhaps the brightest and hope fills their fingers...life indeed goes on...
for tonight so Goeth...for old Hugh...
