Christmas Spirit - 70% proof

What a day. I made the colossal mistake of agreeing to drive down to the Tesco and grab the last-minute extras that we forgot to pick up over the past three weeks. Whereas I had anticipated a tranquil break, it turns out we may be descended upon by "the clan" and hence it was necessary for me to gather cans of coca-cola, booze and microwaveable volume-produced sweetmeats. The roads were hell - cars bumpered to a standstill, frustration overflowing from driver to driver, prompting acts of consummate stupidity. I actually saw someone with a "baby on board" car sticker perform a highly precarious (yet wonderfully entertaining) weaving manoeuvre between a double-decker bus and an articulated lorry - whilst simultaneously barking into a mobile phone and cutting up pedestrians at a pelican crossing. Not the greatest advert for compassion and parental responsibility. This act of stupidity and modern cruelty was nothing compared to what I saw at the store.

Having battered my trolley through the clogged arteries of the Tesco superstore, I fought my way to a checkout where I was unfortunate enough to witness an oaf of a 40-something man verbally abusing a young mother who he claimed had purloined some of the contents of his trolley. Perversely entertained by the "mise-en-scène" that was unwrapping itself like Broadway before me, I switched into People's Court mode. There was no way she was guilty. She was pretty (dark hair, blue eyes, petite) and fragile - qualities enough to absolve her, surely?. The guy was Chaucer's Miller come to life. Red-faced, with timber hewn hands and a crust of a beard, he had heavy, earthy wares in his gatherings, of the sort that she would not possibly have chosen for herself (bottles of brown ale, potted cheese, mini pork-pies). It got ugly - she didn't retaliate, probably because she was more startled and disbelieving than anything else, and that just pissed him off even more. He opened up on her. I swear, the I thought the woman was going to burst into tears - the edges of her eyes reddened and there was a faint quiver of her lip. I was mortified. When the guy turned around for the third time to inflict further abuse, I was mustering gallantry to intervene - but an attendant shopfloor assistant stepped in to arbitrate and the drama melted back into the ambient stress.

So much for the Christmas spirit! I drove home livid at the impatience of society, but kept telling myself to just cool down and focus on enjoying the weekend. The thought of the jingling bottles of champagne in the back served to do just the trick. So, I anticipate a gentle softening of the soul this year, remembering that the festivity celebrates the promise of redemption.

Wishing everyone a fantastic christmas weekend!