Friday, December 4

I Believe, Do you? with Gin or Gym

So December is finally here! Everywhere you go you hear Shakin Stevens wishing Merry Christmas Everyone, and the shops have ditched the sale signs in favour of twinkly lights and sparkly frocks! Homes are full of children scribbling or, in this day and age, typing their letters to Santa, eagerly believing that being good will bring them that longed for pressie under the tree. It kind of got me thinking about belief! That child like conviction that Ol’ Fat ‘n’ Jolly will have got their note and is loading his sleigh with whatever electronic wizardry they tidied their room for. It is such a sweet thing but as adults we often fill our lives full of busyness and lose the sense of magic that imagination can bring, especially at Christmas.

As “grown ups” we quickly lose that belief in Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy usually when someone blabs in the playground or we catch Mum scoffing the choccy eggs. I guess it is a bit like the belief that Mr/Mrs Right is out there! That one person we imagine will complete our lives so we trawl through endless find romance type websites, speed dating and the dreaded blind date, all in bid to find THE life partner. Perhaps it would be easier to be good and drop the man in the red suit a quick text? So what sours the theme that for all of us THE ONE is out there? Having been through some horrendous dates from a guy whose Mum came to pick him up, to another one where Mr Full Of-Himself brought his washing to do while I made dinner, I guess I am just a teeny bit sceptical. I have asked myself many times, if it is scepticism or as one so called gentlemen told me, as he picked his teeth with his knife, that I have too high standards!!!!! Actually it is none of the above because I know my worth and like the children making their case to Santa, I know what I have done in my life to deserve a half decent pressie.

I guess I would rather be “good” for a little bit longer and send that virtual wish up the chimney for Bradley Cooper to come to his senses but in the meantime, it is time to embrace the season. I will cope with putting up my large Christmas Tree on my own, curse at the lights that do not work, try to remember where I put the spare bulbs and electrocute myself as I fix the fuse when the lights blow! At the end of it all, I know I can slob out in my seasonal PJ’s with a wee sherry, a slab of Christmas cake and blub at schmaltzy films. I guess that will be reward for being a (ahem) good girl, so in a way I do still believe in Santa, it is just that my Santa wears jeans, is in her fifties and lives in the West End of Glasgow.

I believe in me!

Find Geraldine... 

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