Time Of The Season

I know Christmas starts in about August for some shops (especially with the Children’s Annuals coming out then) but most nowadays have the decency to get at least Halloween, if not Bonfire Night, out of the way before setting out the bunting and the baubles.

(That’s the only bonus about the commercialisation of Halloween. It fends off Christmas for a bit. When I was a lad there wasn’t much “ghostly” tat, apart from perhaps paper masks or witches’ hats, on sale in the run up to All Hallows Eve. Certainly no pumpkins and none of the peculiar orange and black creations that seem to be the marker these days. We had our guising costumes made for us by the sweat of mother’s brow – or sewing fingers.)

In Kirkcaldy, Santa visits the Mercat and the town’s Christmas lights are switched on halfway through November but at least the latter has some point to it, as it brightens up the dark winter afternoons.

Yesterday, though, the 27th of November, in my local corner shop I saw for sale not Christmas stuff, oh no, but creme eggs.

Creme eggs! In November. The leftovers from last Easter have barely cleared away.

It takes all the anticipation away.

Year round creme eggs. It’s just not right.

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