From bitter to oversweet, and slathered in cranberry sauce, festive sandwiches are in the shops now. Eva Wiseman tries the lot, so you don’t have to…
You can’t stop time, people. The wheel is turning and it will continue to turn, autumn becoming winter, bodies becoming dust, until Christmas is here and with it that clove-scented reminder that another year is almost over and death comes for all.
Is this why we choose to lean on tradition, on comforts that mean even as time passes we have something that always remains the same? Except, like a fantasy that gets dimmer with every use, a photocopy of a photocopy, the traditions of our childhoods are both too precious and too shitty to do their job any more. We must have turkey on Christmas Day, and wear the bobbly slipper socks, and watch the sad episode of The Royle Family and have a fight about the price of things, because that is what we have always done so that is what we do.
From bitter to oversweet, and slathered in cranberry sauce, festive sandwiches are in the shops now. Eva Wiseman tries the lot, so you don’t have to…
You can’t stop time, people. The wheel is turning and it will continue to turn, autumn becoming winter, bodies becoming dust, until Christmas is here and with it that clove-scented reminder that another year is almost over and death comes for all.
Is this why we choose to lean on tradition, on comforts that mean even as time passes we have something that always remains the same? Except, like a fantasy that gets dimmer with every use, a photocopy of a photocopy, the traditions of our childhoods are both too precious and too shitty to do their job any more. We must have turkey on Christmas Day, and wear the bobbly slipper socks, and watch the sad episode of The Royle Family and have a fight about the price of things, because that is what we have always done so that is what we do.
