Ghosts of Christmas past
It was a purple dragster pushbike with streamers festooning from the handle bars a sparkly seat and quite literally all the bells and whistles, I thought I was and it actually was Christmas in the late ’60s.
I have been down this track before, it is a bit like me weather beaten, but once again it got me thinking about Christmas and there are only four more sleeps until Santa comes crashing down the chimney.
In 2009 Santa will need a blue card if he goes anywhere near your kids, if it is one of his helpers he now has to pay tax as if it was a 52-week-a-year job rather than part there of and a lot of the presents won’t have to be paid for until 2011.
If his sled breaks down and he has to take his chances on the roads of the Sunshine Coast he will be grid locked for most of the time.
If he runs out of presents or his little helpers at the North Pole are on strike because they want to improve on their 38-hour week, super, holiday loading, time in lieu and accumulated hours for toil than he may have to go to the Plaza.
He will then realise that he is a better chance of joining forces with Kevin Rudd and improving China’s carbon footprint than finding a car park in December.
If Santa eats prawns or has to deliver any I hope he has the good sense to have done something before Thursday afternoon or the fat bloke will be at the back of some lengthy queue being shouldered around like Hulk Hogan’s press conference and will come to the realisation the cost of prawns have magically increased for the festive season.
Santa though will probably agree that as long as they are local prawns it is worth the trouble.
Hopefully by this time Santa has fixed his sleigh because he only wants to be price gouged on prawns not faceless fuel executives.
By now you have probably got my drift on what my take on Christmas in 2009 where as in the 1960s it was a whole other story.
Down from Eudlo to the beach like the Beverly Hillbillies, truck loaded to the hilt.
Sometimes one of us would be perched on the back with the dog.
You couldn’t do that today.
But Santa’s job was a whole lot easier in those days – no award rates, he could bully his helpers into working longer hours and the presents were a whole lot simpler, heavier but less complicated.
Oh, and they lasted a whole lot longer.
Santa was just as hard to pin down though.
I remember getting dragged off to church at midnight with probably two motives in mind, hopefully to make me a better person which was a big ask for God but also to tire me out so Santa could put the presents around the tree.
I did not have clue what the guy up the front was saying, which probably explains a lot today, because I was too busy plotting how I was going to catch Santa in the act when I got home.
I never did and he always drank the tallie of Bulimba’s finest ale and ate the cake or the Christmas pudding with the threepences we left out and I never ever heard a thing.
Of course if that were today he would either get locked up or sue mum for giving him lead poisoning.
I am only joking of course.
I had a wonderful time with my family when I was kid and I hope you do to.
As I always say, it’s not about presents it’s your family and friends presence that really counts.