Jingle Bells

Now, it's well known amongst my friends that I don't like Christmas. I don't even like Christmas at Christmas time, but I particularly don't like Christmas in November. However, I was persuaded to go down to the German Market in Nottingham's Old Market Square last night and there, Christmas was already in full swing. There was a seasonally-bedecked choir singing carols for all it was worth; the giant Norwegian Pine was fully illuminated; we had fake snow billowing around in the cold night air; and Jack Frost was springing around on those strange springy feet that some people wear in order to make themselves appear bionic. Someone was even dressed up as a Christmas Pudding, although Santa was conspicuously - and strangely - absent.

So really, I should have hated it all – it represented everything I usually find distasteful and furthermore, it represented it all just way, way too early. However, I enjoyed myself – perhaps because I was with some nice people, and perhaps because I can no longer be bothered to raise a grumble about things which aren't really worth grumbling about. The media gives us quite enough harbingers of doom to ponder upon, without me inventing any more. So, I milled around the market, stuffing my face with burgers, garlic mushrooms and rosti whilst swilling (rather weak) Glühwein served in tiny earthenware Steins decorated with Alpine scenes. All in all, a jolly excursion, and the best bit was the sight of a real-life Polar Bear which had travelled all the way to Nottingham for our amusement (see picture).

Today, provided I get my skates on, I am off to a Beaujolais Nouveau event at Shaw's. The fun kicks off at 9:30 a.m. whereupon we are promised a 'meaningless' talk about the origins of the Beaujolais wine, after which we will be served with a full English breakfast and – to start proceedings and set the tone for the day - a half bottle of the aforesaid beverage. Hmm, I suspect this will probably lead to the imbibing of larger quantities than a mere half bottle before the day is out, so who knows what carnage will ensue later on Broad Street? Ah, Broad Street – all the world is there and yet, apart from a few struggling fairy lights that Edin decided to erect in his window as long ago as September, there is no sign of Christmas. Hurrah!

Right – I'd better get those skates on. What a pity we didn't get more of that fake snow stuff last night, for then I could have skied down the (albeit short) hill to Shaw's. Bring it on!