So, it’s that time of the year again. Almost. I’m hopefully on the tail-end of a long period of ill-health, allowing me a fresh start in the new year. Our tree is up and we’ve got more presents than our son will ever be able to open. He’ll be one year old at Christmas this year and I predict that at least some of what we’ve got him will go back upstairs, unopened, to be given to him next Christmas when he’ll have more of an idea of what it’s all about. It’s beginning to feel festive, now. One reason for this is… this:
Since the mid-2000s Christmases were always connected with Doctor Who, in my head, because we get a Christmas special. But that nerd-association has been overwritten by a bigger, more exciting one. Yes, we still get a Doctor Who Christmas special (and – as is becoming more routine – a regeneration!) this year, but we also have Star Wars Episode 8: The Last Jedi to look forward to.
We missed seeing Rogue One when it came out last year because our son was born the same day. I remember it as the most important and emotional day of my life to date, and I had to bloody miss it because my son was being born… (I JEST). So this year, we’ll miss the midnight showing of TLJ because it’s our boy’s first birthday. We have plans to see it soon, though.
So Christmases are now about Family, Doctor Who and Star Wars. My three favourite things. Add to that brand new specials from Alan Partridge and The League Of Gentlemen and there’s a lot to be happy about. I’m a lucky boy. In fact, knowing what I’m having for Christmas – a shitload of magic books – I can say I’m a very lucky boy.
Ho, ho, ho!