Hark, the herald angels are already singing again... and soon they'll be brightening up our tree. Yes, alas, Christmas decorations have started to edge their way into my field of vision when I walk down Antwerp's streets. We are only one week away from the whole chasm opening up.
This year's tree is slowly but surely shaping up in my mind with kitschy white angel lights (see above), white feathers, popcorn and cranberries, more lights, and some transparent glass ornaments. Why rein yourself in when you can go completely overboard? I've come to understand that the only way to make 'the most wonderful time of the year' bearable is to basically join in. If you can't beat them, etc., what else can you do?
So whilst our turkey is being raised organically in some green outpost in old Eire, courtesy of
Jack the butcher in Brussels, we are pondering recipes, all the while hampered by the fact that my sister is on a major diet for the rest of our and her life...
All I myself can think about, pathetically but greedily, is Boxing Day, as post-turkey-syndrome sets in. Turkey tonnato, turkey and cranberry sandwiches, turkey and pomegranate salad... Gasp. What if we didn't order a bird that's big enough to warrant sufficient leftovers for snacking?
Speaking of turkeys, the best Christmas card I ever sent out featured a turkey with a Groucho Marx nose, mustache and glasses, crouching with a bazooka behind a lantern post, with a poster that read: join the turkey liberation front.
This year's venture is a much more sobering one, an endorsement of
Unicef.
Because at the end of the day, however whimsical this whole shenanigan might be, we should always spare not one, but many thoughts for all those who are less fortunate than us and who live in this
'seriously f***ed up world', as my fellow blogger
Siegfried put it so succinctly.
Photo AP.
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