Today, I sit at my desk listening to the strains of Big Ben heralding the arrival of 8.00am and one of my colleagues experimenting with his new speakers by blasting out Christmas carols. The countdown is on for everyone and I'm rather excited that I finish work tomorrow lunch time!
It has filled me with a sense of melancholy as Christmas, as much as I love it, never lives up to my expectations. In my head I imagine a magical time where miracles happen, people find romance and long-lost loved ones miraculously make it home for the special day. In my head, everyone should sit round the fire (or air-conditioning) watching It's A Wonderful Life, drinking wine and wrapping presents wearing novelty knitwear.
But in reality I will be with the future in-laws who don't have a christmas tree. My Mum's trifle won't make an appearance, nor (after checking the TV listings) will the ultimate christmas movie. Christmas Eve will not be spent this year watching the Melbourne Carol's by Candlelight with Ray Martin, it will be spent at the pub. And I'm too old to leave out beer and cookies for Santa without looking like a complete twit.
But I shall not let this get me down, for in the not-so-distant-future, I will have a family of my own, and a house of my own, and in my house I can create the perfect Christmas I've had in my head since I was a little girl.
And, despite this melancholy, the thought of waking up on christmas morning wrapped up in a man cocoon puts a silly smile on my face.
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