Being a writer is a paradox because you never have to pick up a pen. I’ve pushed enough buttons to satisfy a beered-up rugby team (I haven’t, by the way) but barely do I ever, pen and paper in hand, actually write.
We’ve become so busy living our virtual lives that our real ones get left behind. Even Christmas, a tradition that dates back long before electricity (let alone Facebook), is unable to defy the gadgets and gizmos of 2008. Amazon has just this second invaded my inbox with its fantastic list of gift ideas, all available at the touch of a button. Ironically, it is books that they trying to dazzle me with.
Happily I think that for students it is different. Being away from your roots changes the point of Christmas for the better. The worry of how you are going to afford presents when you can’t even afford food is rapidly suppressed by the unstoppable force that is fairy lights, woolly hats and advent calendars. Not only do we get a whirlwind final week of celebrations avec course buddies and housemates, we get to swan off home and relish in a glorious four weeks of festive indulgence with a completely separate social circle. It may not be Christmas everyday, but it’s Christmas for quite a while. As we get older, it’s less about the latest Barbie/Action Man, and more about using the festive season as a social whistle-stop tour. Lunch with Friend A, cinema with Friend B, drinks with Ex 63 (but who’s counting? As long as Current One doesn’t find out…)
The festive period is a chance to get off Facebook for five minutes and, although you may not pick up a pen, you can at least pick up your feet and enjoy the social high of Christmas.
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