Since Christmas...

In this last week:

Wonderful...



Beautiful...

Profound...



Surprising...

1 Year Ago:

Twin town...

So this is Christmas...?

I spent yesterday lunchtime battling the rabid throngs of Christmas shoppers through the centre of Cardiff, wishing I'd not strayed from my office desk. I don't mind so much those with an honest sense of purpose and determination to acquire that last scrap of yuletide tat; it's the amblers and drifters that send me over the edge.

The following groups should be banned from leaving the house throughout December; they should certainly be barred from straying anywhere near urban areas:

Those that refuse to look where they're going, preferring instead to stare over their shoulders or down at their feet, thereby forcing all they meet to make way for them.

Those smug and happy-clappy couples, holding hands and gazing into each others eyes as they float slowly by on a cloud of love, instilling hatred in all that have to negotiate their way around them.

Those cheery inconsiderate bastards that stop for a chat, all stupid smiles and loud knitwear, blocking the pavement and forcing everyone else into the road.

Those duplicitous hard-faced fucksters in their threadbare leggings with battering ram pushchairs laden with shopping and no kid in sight.

Those potbellied porkers that can't resist the Christmas market hog roast, ambling about with their greasy chinned slack-jawed mastication, blocking everyone with their gout ridden gait.

Anyone under the age of 25 with their gurning and acned faces; totally devoid of humour and spacial awareness.

Anyone over the age of 60, muffled in sensible winter-wear and wrapped in a cloud of senile confusion; too infirm to walk more than 3 steps before tottering to the left or stumbling to the right.

Oh... and anyone else who gets in my way!

Now that's out of my system... A very merry Christmas and a happy new year to you all!

I'll leave you with one of the best Christmas ads ever...

1 Year Ago:

Shibboleth...

It's depressing...

The third Monday in January has become known as Blue Monday; the weather is cold and damp and the days are short, you wake to the arrival of a bloated credit card bill and the growing realisation that all your New Year's resolutions have failed. Science proves it to be the most depressing date in the calendar.

But does it and is it?

In reality Blue Monday started as a press campaign by Sky Travel in an effort to get people to shake their (so called) winter blues by booking a holiday. The article was largely pre-written before being circulated to the scientific community for endorsement. Cash was offered as a sweetener, should the thrill of seeing your name in print as the author of this claim not be enough.

Cardiff University's Dr Cliff Arnall, a psychologist, stepped up to the mark and into the limelight, and with a scientific equation to prove it.

Following the initial thrill of New Year's celebrations and changing over a new leaf, reality starts to sink in. The realization coincides with the dark clouds rolling in and the obligation to pay off Christmas credit card bills.

Cardiff University were quick to distance themselves from Dr Cliff and his psuedoscience. Dr Cliff has since gone on to write an equation to calculate the happiest day of the year (sponsored by Walls Icecream).

That was in 2005 and since then the press have run this story every year, despite some public campaigns (notably by Dr Ben Goldacre in his Bad Science column) to discredit this as meaningless babble. Google it today and you'll see from the results it's still a story that the media are prepared to flog to death. Surprisingly, it has also been used by organisations concerned with mental health to bring a focus to depression.

What's really depressing about all this is that depression is a real and very serious condition. It is not a slight feeling of vague sadness to be hijacked by the media and paraded through the press like a bank holiday; something to mark in your calendar for next year.

Peace on earth...

With doubt cast in recent years as to whether Jesus was the product of a virgin birth, whether he was born in Bethlehem and even if the three wise men were kings, three in number, wise or even men; it's nice to be able to hold on to the theme of peace at this time of year. It's comforting.

Peace on earth... or so goes the Christmas message. Have a look at any Christmas carol or nativity story and you'll more than likely find the word peace sooner or later. The birth of Jesus ushered in a new chapter; gone was the vengeful and warring God of the Old Testament, swept aside by the new caring, merciful God of the New Testament. Yahweh had undergone a make-over.

With the birth of His son he mellowed; fatherhood gave Him a softer edge. Out went the aggressive Jeremy Paxman image to be replaced by a cuddlier Eamonn Holmes character. And He hasn't looked back since that first Christmas. Indeed, the festive season has long been associated with forgiveness, kindness and generosity. Legend has it that on Christmas Day in 1915 the German and British soldiers put down their guns and put aside their differences for a festive game of football in No-Man's-Land.

The message of peace has rung down the ages and stands as a bright and guiding torch in the depths of winter; a beacon on which to fix our gaze as we enter another year wondering what it will bring. It forms the core of many a leader's yuletide message; a cardinal point on our moral compasses. How then to explain this fighting between rival groups of Greek Orthodox and Armenian clerics at Bethlehem's Church of the Nativity.

Doesn't give much hope for the  rest of us, does it?

Now that's what I call Xmas...

As anyone who know's me will testify, I'm not the biggest fan of Christmas. However, that said, I have been known to enjoy the odd mince pie, slurp the occasional dry sherry and tap my foot to one or two Christmas choons. So here it is, Merry Christmas:

Jingle Bells - The Puppini Sisters
All I Want for Christmas is You - Mariah Carey
Santa Claus is Coming to Town - The Jackson 5
Christmas Time (Don't Let the Bells End) - The Darkness
I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday - Wizzard
Merry Xmas Everybody - Slade
Last Christmas - Wham!
Happy Xmas (War Is Over) - John Lennon
Christmas Wrapping - The Waitresses
I Believe In Father Christmas - Greg Lake
Do They Know It's Christmas? - Band Aid
Lonely Pup (In a Christmas Shop) - Adam Faith
Frosty the Snowman - The Ronettes
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - The Crystals
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! - Dean Martin
Santa Baby - Eartha Kitt
Winter Wonderland - Peggy Lee
The Christmas Song - Nat King Cole
White Christmas - Bing Crosby
Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy - Bing Crosby/David Bowie
Walking in the Air - Aled Jones
Fairytale Of New York - The Pogues/Kirsty MacColl
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Judy Garland
Troika - Sergei Prokofiev

He who laughs last...

I've always been a bit behind; always a follower and never an innovator or a pioneer. I'm always somewhere in the middle of the pack and never running out front somewhere. I've never been leading edge, never mind bleeding edge.

I'm currently working my way through Spooks. I first saw the programme during (the last ever) series 10 and loved it so much that, after that came to an end, I went back to Series 1 and started watching them. I'm currently on Series 5 and kicking myself that I hadn't discovered them sooner. The same thing happened with Downton Abbey, except I did manage to discover that after only one series had been broadcast and I've now caught up.

I noticed that between Facebook and Twitter today, I got sent a link to a You Tube Christmas themed video four times by different friends. You've probably seen it before; you more than likely caught it last Christmas or maybe the one before that. I have only discovered it today.

And so, to all the other sheep out there, I give you, The Digital Story of Nativity (Christmas 2.0). And remember the old saying, He who laughs last... doesn't get it.

Today's run at 18:36
Distance	4.06 km	Time	21:06
Pace	5:12 min/km	Cadence	82 spm
Comments: Quite mild and drizzly.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Up with the sun this morning as I wanted to fit a run in before heading off to the Blue Anchor in Aberthaw for Christmas lunch with a few mates. We've been doing this for a number of years and it usually always turns into a rather boozy affair, so the odds on going for a run this evening are practically nil.

It was very cold and very slippery first thing this morning because of all the ice, which meant that I tottered with little baby steps the entire distance to avoid going arse over tit. About midway through the run I realised that we're only one week away from the culmination of what we've been building up to since the festive season first started sometime back in late August.

In a week's time, you'll be sat in an arm chair feeling bloated and a bit woozy from the excesses of another Christmas Day. Nauseous from the over-eating and binge drinking, bruised by the family fights and bored by yet another Christmas TV Special; you'll be looking forward to Boxing Day when you can queue at an out of town store's customer service desk in order to return your unwanted gifts.

To see you through this final stretch, I thought I'd tell you a Christmas horror story from when I was a kid:

I must've been about eight years old and during the run up to Christmas my Grandmother, who worked in a shop, used to supply my younger brother and I with festive treats such as foil wrapped chocolates intended to be hung on the tree. Of course, they were never hung on our tree; they never made it that far - my brother and I would greedily devour them when we got home after school, ignoring my mother's warnings that we'd ruin our appetites.

On one miserable and grey afternoon in December we arrived home from school and rushed to the cupboard to share out our chocolate spoils. It was sheer heaven; sat there on the floor infront of the telly ripping at the foil to reveal the hollow chocolate bells, balls, snowmen and santas. We didn't stop to savour this cheap confectionary, we ate it quickly and mechanically while our attention was almost wholly focused on Scooby Doo or Hong Kong Fooey. Occasionally we might pause slightly or relax our feeding frenzy as my mother's voice echoed from the kitchen, "I hope you two aren't eating those chocolates yet?" My brother and I would grin at each other for a brief moment before picking up the pace again.

During my trance-like state I'd half noticed that one of my chocolate santa's foil wrapping had been punctured. I thought no more of it. I tore off his shiney red dressing and bit his head off. I then lifted his decapitated body to my mouth and tapped so that any chocolate debris that had fallen into his body fell into my mouth. I swiftly followed this with two bites at what was left and the whole santa was now in my mouth. I chomped away at it, the chocolate melting away between my teeth. However, this one tasted a little odd. It was an alkaline taste; the taste you get from silver paper. Rather than pull the paper out of my mouth I decided to chew at it a bit more and suck the melting chocolate out of it's folds. After a few more seconds I decided to retrieve it as the taste of the metal was beginning to spoil my enjoyment.

With my fingers I reached into my mouth to remove the chocolate sodden foil that had become mashed on my molars. I held it up so that I could have a better look at it. However, grasped between my thumb and forefinger was not the foil I'd been expecting to find but instead the biggest, blackest beetle I had ever seen. Its body was pretty much mutilated, crushed by my teeth, but there was enough of the animal left to identify it. Two of its legs were still twitching. My brother had stopped eating and looked on in silent horror. This silence was eventually broken by my hysterical screams as I tried to retrieve any remaining beetle body parts from my mouth. I cried and cried and continued to cry for the rest of the evening. Eventually, my mother lost patience (and any sympathy she might've had) and smacked me so that I'd shut up.

This next week I'll be wishing my life away to get to the other side as quickly and painlessly as possible. And I won't be eating any foil wrapped chocolate Santas...

Today's run at 8:16
Distance	3.86 km	Time	22:26
Pace	5:48 min/km	Cadence	80 spm
Comments: Very cold and slippery because of all the ice.