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It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss. It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiissssmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiissssmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiissssmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiissssmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiissssmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiissssmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.
Alright, I guess it might get a bit annoying after a while. Sometimes less is more. But sometimes more is more. In fact more is always more. Whereas less is usually less. So best to go for more. To be sure of having more.
It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.It’s Chriiiiisssstmaaasss.
Sometimes more is enough.
It was a relaxed and enjoyable day (for me at least - all my food and drink was brought to me by others. I am not sure where they got it from). We put on our Christmas jumpers, mine still ridiculously staticy from the tumble dryer to a point where I thought I might be able to shoot lightning from my finger tips, or at least act as a magnet for any underwear and socks in the area, which would be an exciting, if ineffectual superhero power. I tweeted a picture of my wife and me together and got an inordinate number of people telling me that I was punching above my weight. Perhaps so, but she’s pregnant now, so she can’t escape. Plus if she thinks about doing so I just put on my staticy jumper and she’s stuck with me (literally).
Social media certainly has its downsides, but Facebook and twitter have transformed the Christmas experience, whether you are with your family or friends or alone. In the old days Christmas was a desert island that you and your family (or you on your own) were washed up on for the day. There was no escape and nowhere else to go. You did have a phone, but could only use that to ring up more relatives (usually ones that you were a bit reluctant to talk to and never did so apart from on this one day). To ring friends or strangers would be an intrusion on their magical desert island nightmare. Texting and email allowed a little unobtrusive way of connecting with the outside world, but now social media is a largely acceptable outlet that makes it OK to have contact with people you know and that you don’t know, to share the day and the weirdness of being with your family, without taking you off the desert island. People on their own can connect with others (even strangers) and feel less alone. It’s like a little Christmas Day football match with social media hostilities (mainly) suspended for the day (though I did have some fun trading pretend blows with Peacock and Gamble). I wish it could be Christmas every day (on Twitter).
Anyway I enjoyed being on the desert island with my inlaws, as well as the brief social media radio transmissions. Next year should be a little bit different.
