Bring me de head of Santa Clausio

When I was younger, my father worked as a port controller in Jedda. He stayed there some 9 months of the year some times and we didnt get to see him alot. My mother would occasionally go to visit him out there and I would be carted off to the next door neighbours for a week.

This one particular year around christmas, both my mother and father came home with big smiles and I had hoped lots of presents. Both my brother and I were given a variety of different exotic gifts and it was great. Christmas day however held one big surprise for us both. My mother had bought a centrepiece for the dinner table.

The table was filled with turkey and pigs in blankes and yorkshire puds and peas and sprouts and crackers and everything else you would expect to see, but this year instead of the normal christmas candles was a red sparkly box that we were not allowed to touch.

As my brother and I got more and more excited we sat at the table waiting for our parents and wondering what could be in it, perhaps a big bowl of sweets, or a chocolate fountain. We joked about taking a peek, but didnt want a surprise.

Eventually it was time to open the box, my mother opened the flip top lid, and from its hair she produced a life size plastic head of Santa Claus.

Now I know that the arabs arent very christmasy and so therefore may look down on our ridiculous traditionalists, but dismembering the dude in the red suit seemed a little perverse. I know he's not everyone's cup of tea, but come on now. There was however worse to come.

Withing seconds of our stunned silence, my mother had plugged it in to the mains and a lightbulb lit within his skull like the alien crystal skulls of an indi movie, and the tune of jingle bells resonated like a hundred learner violinists around the room. Santas beard started to mechanically move, his fluffy white beard swishing in the christmas gravy as the words echoed into my brain forever.

The piece de resistance, however came after the second verse when as most musical people know there is room for an instrumental break. In this case the instruental break was joined by Santas head turning 360 degrees like in the exorcist. Some may suggest that this quasi-demonic possesion of santas cabesa is in the spirit of christmas bringing joy and happiness. I however consider it a warning as to the prostitution of christmas, and the spinning of the head is merely to ensure that everyone in that room knew it, eye to eye.

The reason I mention this is because I would like to take a moment to talk about one of my customers. He is a talented musician in a well recognised local band, who has spent this chrismas dressed up as Santa in a local restaurant singing christmas songs and carols. Each day I picked him up I thought about what he refered to prostituting his talent for a few quick bucks. His fine spirits over the unabashed performing monkiness of his christmas gig was clearly because of the ridiculously vast sum of money they paid him to do it. And good on him, we all do what we can to get by.

It is odd though that christmas brings this out in us. That for a few short weeks we become totally obsessed with otherwise meaningless aspects of our society. When do we ever eat so many sprouts and why would we when they taste like they've been in your grans armpits for the last 3 years? What drives us to buy a plastic tree and adorn it for a few weeks, and why do we insist on taking it down before a certain date in case we suffer 'bad luck'? Why do we give cards saying nothing more than 'To Sue... From Peter' when we just spent a good 20 minutes talking to them.

Despite all this, I too have fallen in with the christmas crowd as i always do each year. with cards and presents bought and wrapped. And with a christmas floppy hat worn in my little cab.

Merry christmas everyone

Christmas Spots

As you all know, Christmas is a time for fun, frolicing, dressing up in silly costumes, giving useless presents to people you dont like and generally being overly nice so we can feel less guilty about ripping them off the rest of the year. Which comes across a little cynical, but believe me I genuinely do love this time of the year.

I love watching the freezing cold carol singers go from door to door, their little red noses sniffing in the cold wind, whilst I stay in my warm house looking through the windows at the as they press my bell.

I love watching the town council electrician every year, in the ice and snow trying to reach across the various trees and buildings, putting up the christmas decorations, and it takes all of my effort to not go steady the ladder than invariable slides on the slippy ice and snow. Well I say all my efforts, obviously what I mean by that is that me and some of the other cabbies tend to don our winter coats, warm gloves and hats, get the hot coffee out and cheer, sing and dance the poor fellow on.

I love the girls going to the clubs in their mini santa outfits, freezing in the cold wind, leaping from leg to leg like they're warming up for the triple jump.

Yes, christmas is a great time, but there are some things I dont enjoy about it. Some things which christmas should not be about at all!

For example... Christmas spots!

Yes every year about this time my skin decides to conspire against me and in the run up to the big day where my family and friends are looking forward to seeing my smiley happy face greet them with warm cheer, I have instead been transformed into one of the witches in Macbeth. My particular low point was having a big red spot one year on the furthest tip of my nose. Oh what fun it was to be called 'Rudolf'' by not only the people who claim to love me, but also by the complete strangers that drunkenly get into my car. Imagine my joy when comfronted by one witty drunken jostler I was told...
"At least with that thing you'll be alright if the lights go out!"

Despite a regular array of chemical face packs, exfoliating creams, rejuvinating oils etc etc, every year it happens and every year i end up hiding in my house come christmas wishing everyone would forget about me this year.

My understanding is that it is not just me who suffers from this affliction. Other normally clear faced people will find themselves looking like a half baked pizza at Christmas times, as well as birthdays, on holiday and my particular favourite, on their wedding day.

Oddly though, I do not take heart knowing that others suffer in the same way. It should, but it doesnt. I shall have to just put up with my continuous shame and embarrassment and live to fight through another christmas under another balaclava.