During this festive season I’ve decided to be Scottish. I am not by birth, I was born well south of the border but there seems to be so much going for it at this time of year. All of the shops are filled with things that are redolent of the land of Braveheart. There are tartan ribbons and scarves and kilts. There are shortbread biscuits in tartan packaging or in tins with romantic pictures of majestic stags or black grouse on a snow covered wilderness on their lids. Then of course there is the whisky: bottle after bottle in all shapes and sizes from every nook and cranny and island and stream that ever existed in the land since Jesus left Dumbarton, whenever that was. There are smoky flavours, peaty tones, single malts, blended brands, quality you savour and stuff you pour on haggis or pour down your neck. The shops are awash with reds and greens, thistles and plaid and it is impossible to avoid it.
Whilst I am at it I think I will spend my money on inedible fruit stuffed into glass bottles in a way that makes it look very attractive but is otherwise rendered utterly useless. A third of the world is starving yet those red chillies or those halved apricots or those segmented star fruit are going to look fantastic on my window sill come boxing day and for at least a week after. I’m certain that those tall jars with the wax sealed necks or those squat jars with the wire clipped tops are going to give my kitchen a warm and culinary ambiance befitting the gluttony of the season.
And of course I am going to be only too happy to pay over the odds for everyday essentials that are repackaged to look like gifts such as shaving foam with a drum of manly talcum powder that I am never going to use or a windscreen de-icer kit with an aerosol, a chamois and a scraper in a mitten but which are wrapped in an impenetrable triple layer of paper, plastic and cardboard. And then there are the soaps shaped like cupcakes or cartoon characters and packed in fancy boxes with see through lids that show then off and make them aspirational but which command a tenfold price increase over the same but unshaped goods out of season or the chocolates and other tidbits that are individually wrapped and lovingly presented in heart shaped boxes. And don’t mention the Panettone that I’ve just got to have even though I haven’t got a clue what to do with it and I don’t really like it but it looks so nice all stacked neatly on the shelves in Fenwick’s.
During this festive season I am going to stuff my face, drink myself silly and sit around the house doing nothing except wear a stupid hat right through from Christmas eve until Hogmanay. It will be just like last year.
Thoughts from a Guerrilla Worker 