Siberian winds are blowing; Christmas is in the air.
From dusk until dawn, the air is colder and pleasant, giving me nice dreamless sleep. The shopping malls start thinking about Christmas at the start of the BER months. My own trigger is the start of the colder nights in October which usually last until January.
Oh Christmas! I wonder why I look at it now with much anticipation. I usually don’t because Christmas to me has always been about traffic congestion, parties, and food binging—which makes me even fatter than I am right now. Journalists work until the 24th of December and are back on the road by the 26th so there’s really nothing to expect in terms of a longer break. We are like those much-abused ground pounders in the armed forces.
Christmas makes life more difficult for journalists. When interviewed, sources are usually polite, nice and impertinent. They will say “C’mon, its party time, ask me that later. You’re too serious!” Or they say “Oh, I’m scheduled to attend this dinner and that party. Could we reschedule the interview after Christmas?” There goes your story.
But I’m still excited. Maybe there’s more to this one. I don’t know but I hope. Maybe that’s Christmas: hope, dreams, and expectations that the next year will turn out good and nice.