On the minus eighth day of Christmas, which is today, I don't feel very Christmassy, but I know how to rectify that. From now until Christmas I'll write about Christmassy things. And so:
Nativity.
At Townsend Park, where my mum lives, the men have made lifesize painted plywood Christmas decorations and placed them at various points throughout the grounds. There are Disneyesque mice in red Christmas hats saluting near the flower bed, thin angels blowing golden horns at the end of the drive, reindeer with mouselike features prancing on the oval, and, the piece de resistance, a nativity scene in the gazebo, complete with everybody but the infant Jesus.
This lack of a baby Jesus is quite concerning. Mary, Joseph, the shepherds and the wise men staring into an empty cradle.
Has he been stolen?
Or has Easter come early?
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