There’s one thing I really hate about Christmas and like most Christmas-related things it happens every year, without fail.

Just as the selection boxes, the advent calendars and the yule logs begin to appear in the supermarkets around mid-October, this one and only pet peeve of mine rears its ugly head during the build-up to Hallowe’en: people start complaining about Christmas.

I know this is a cliché, but it quite literally is my favourite time of year. Everything about it (with the exception of the friendly neighbourhood Scrooges) makes me smile, which probably explains why I can’t help getting all worked up when I hear people complaining about how commercialised it is, or how wasteful, or unnecessary. True, it can be all of those things, in fact, it probably is, but it’s also pretty great.

The gloriously cheesy music blasting from every possible outlet, the mulled wine, the mince pies, the excuse to eat yourself into a festive food coma and then collapse in front of the t.v. to watch hour after hour of Christmas classics. How can anyone possibly complain about that? Okay, I get it, I really do. No one wants to be thinking about what they’re going to have with their Christmas pud when they’re still wallowing in the mire of indecision that is what-to-wear-for-Hallowe’en, and I totally understand why some people might not want to be hearing Bing Crosby’s dulcet tones ringing out over the breakfast table whilst they’re frantically trying to meet mid-term deadlines, but come on! IT’S CHRISTMAS! (Well, almost).

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