For
the past few years, working as I was in the exciting and soul-destroying world
of retail and fuel supply, I had a plethora of advent calendar choices open to
me. It was so easy to grab a Cadbury’s Heroes Reward-A-Day Special, or a ‘Mum’s
Favourite’ Maltesers one (with the added bonus of extra doors to open all the
way to New Year’s Eve!)
This
year, being away from all that non-religious, commercial-driven tat and pap, I
have been able to make a more reasoned choice. There’s a posh arty place not
too far from our home, which sells pricey trinkets and home-made craft gubbins
and occasionally display paintings by local artists. We popped in last week and
I was delighted to see they were selling traditional style advent calendars;
the ones I used to have in my youth; the ones WITHOUT any chocolate or gifts.
Even though it was £8.99 for something that was essentially a bit of cardboard,
I happily purchased a nice nativity scene calendar, and it is proudly displayed
next to our television at home. So far, behind my daily windows, I have seen a nice
image of a holly wreath and a bright, silver star, and I have been immensely
proud of myself for being old-school about it all and not indulging in a daily
excuse for chocolate.
And
then, on the way to work, I stopped for some petrol, and found myself impulse buying
a Dairy Milk calendar for a fiver.
Make
of that what you will.
RC 2-12-21
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