Thursday, November 24, 2005

I kinda always say that I don't really do Christmas - being Jewish - but I've thought about it more, in the last couple of years. A non-Jewish friend of mine always says, "Limmud, isn't that Yiddish for christmas?"

So for the last ten or whatever years, I've been seqestered away with two thousand other Jews doing all manner of cultural and educational stuff. I think I even felt good that I didn't have to engage with tinsel and goodwill and stuff.

Tonight, I bought satsumas in Tesco, and I realised that they herald the christmas season. And I now, know, that Christmas is a yomtov: whether you're secular or religious, it's a time for family, and broiguses (arguments), thinking of others, hanging out with friends, eating (and drinking). It's just like Rosh Hashanah, or Pesach or Chanukah, but with tinsel and gifts and other xmas minhagim (customs).

I was even kinda quite getting into the idea.

Colleagues always used to ask me what I was doing for xmas, and when I said nothing, I think they felt sorry for me, and then I would just say I was going up to Nottingham to see some (two thousand) friends. I never felt seasonal-disconnectedness, or anything.

Now, I even think that the present thing is OK. Good even: it's a time to be thoughtful about friends and family and really, that can only be a good thing.

I think I might be wittering. I may have overdosed on Lemsip. I have a quiche in the oven (caremalised onion and goats cheese, since you ask).

It's possible I don't get out enough.

Although, often I do.

I have a lot of work on.

And I haven't collected my dry cleaning for three weeks. They might have sold it.

I am wittering. There's nothing worse than hearing someone's interior monologue. Once, I went on a date, and the guy said to me, "what's it like inside a woman's head?" (we were in a coffee shop in South End Green) and I spent twenty minutes telling him everything in my head (she shouldn't be wearing those trousers, does my hair look good, what should I cook for supper, great boots, good hair, bad hair, nice smile, getting cold (this has been censored, slightly)). He looked scared, and ran.

Night, then.

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