Boxing day blues...

I bloody hate Boxing Day. It’s literally an empty box of a day with nothing to offer but the leftovers of Christmas dinner and mounds of ripped wrapping paper bursting out of the bin. Of course it might be different if I had lots of family to visit or to come to visit me, but I don’t, that was put paid to that one Boxing Day three years ago and that particular saga still goes on. Sometimes I wish Boxing Day really was about boxing so that I could get a few punches in, but sadly it isn’t.

In fact just what is Boxing Day about? We don’t have servants any more, so it isn’t a day for giving out Christmas boxes as it was in the past and apart from the football, the sales and the bloody hunt there really isn’t that much too it. I can think of nothing worse than watching a bunch of men kicking a ball about in the freezing cold, wandering around John Lewis with hundreds of angry bargain hunters, or standing around waiting for a bunch of red jacketed blood lusting toffs to ride past on there way to killing a defenceless fox.

This Boxing Day is a particularly bad one as it’s damp and dour and raining with not a hint of crispness in the air and certainly no snow. It’s not even worth the effort of going for a walk. The A55 is flooded so we can’t get to Wales an as for those two turtle doves, well there’s not a sign although there were some blue tits in the lavender bush at the back.

Bloody boring, that’s Boxing Day. Perhaps I’ll get my gloves on and start a fight; after all it seems to run in the family.

Boxing Day Blues

So the Christ child’s day is over

Santa’s been and gone

Presents in piles will soon be dust

The end of the Christmas fun.

The turkey awaits deliverance

In sandwiches, curries and pies

Leftover pud hardens in cake tins

Chestnuts wrinkle and dry.

Decorations and lights go unnoticed

The tree is beginning to sadden

The fridge is full of too much food

Singing Santa does nothing but madden.

It’s raining outside not snowing

The crackers have each been pulled

That’s a crow outside not a robin

The wine has all been mulled.

My Santa hat is discarded

My ho-ho-ho all done

The mistletoe has lost its kiss

It’s the end of the Christmas fun.

And Boxing Day is upon us

Most anticlimactic day of all

It’s almost the time of between week

Four days of lethargy and sprawl.

But don’t despair at the situation

The New Year is yet to come

In 364 days it’ll all be returning

And as always we’ll all succumb.