Oh dear reader, I know you are a decent and upstanding citizen, that much is unquestionable. You consider yourself honest and good, for you have, these past dozen or so years, served your customers well, with consideration, loyalty and appropriate grace. But this past year has been particularly testing. The twist and turn of events has taken you by surprise and set you somewhat adrift at sea. So much so, it would seem, that fear, it is fair to say, has settled like ash in your heart. Don’t get me wrong, a casual observer or, say, a brief encounter with a would-be client would pass without undue comment or any sense of unease on their part. A prolonged and more intimate social interaction, however, is sure to uncover a whole host of demons that you can no longer conceal.
You did not ask for these demons to visit, but visit they surely did. Each morning, without fail, you awake to the daily news, the doomsayers and gloom-mongers, the relentless hum that, though alluring in its strangely seductive tone, is the unmistakeable voice of impending disaster. If not the promise of immediate calamity, then always the gentle, incremental steps that certify the world is headed toward the fiery gates.
Then, one fateful night as you laid in your bed, covers stretched tight to the moustache, the ghost of Christmas past took you gently by the hand and led you to the window. Whereupon you were whisked away to a snow laden world where grandparents smiled on warmly as you hastily unwrapped wooden puzzles and gender specific dolls. Oh what innocence! And who is this young gun, you enquire, as a tousle-haired youth bounds for the bus, briefcase swinging like a wrecking ball, chest puffed up with crisp winter air? Why, he’s off to change the world for good, of course. Ah yes, for he is the man you left behind. The man you forgot to be.
Ghost number two was very matter of fact showing you, without judgement, exactly what your life has become. There you are at your glowing screen, for twelve hours a day and more, poring over the intricacies of Excel like it’s a medieval tapestry. But it’s clear your eyes have become dulled by the burden of verisimilitude, for only you can fully understand the pressures on contemporary business. Only you can see how stark and stony the road ahead will surely be.
And so you are left to quake in your bed in dread of the third and final visitation: the ghosts of Christmas yet-to come. The room fills with a piercing chill. The shadows on the wall roll like pipesmoke into the form of a hand, its long bony, brexity fingers beckoning you toward the unknown. It’s grotesque and chinless visage made all the more bloodcurdling by the way it chortles as it sups from a ghostly jug of ale. You scream out loud for it to stop but your cries unleash another swirling, more terrifying phantom. Its wrinkled face emits an eery orange glow that lights the room. With its hair piled at an angle like a ghastly golden haystack it shouts in staccato, trumpet-like rhythm in tune to the chants of a baying mob of ne’er-do-wells and deplorables.
As if the nightmare could get no worse our dreadful duo is joined by a host of dancing spectres each bearing a ghoulish gift from the future: individual parcels clearly labelled with ominous monikers: ‘Isis’ ‘Climate’ ‘Amazon’ ‘Railstrike’ ‘Millennial’ ‘AI’ ‘AR’ ‘VR’ and ‘Big Data’. Oh, what a terrible, terrible omen is upon us!
The next morning you forego the news, kick back the covers and tear apart the curtains to flood the room with blinding sunlight. Yes, another day is here and what a wonderful day it is! No mist, no fog. Today you know you’re alive for you can feel the blood pumping through your tangled veins. ‘Today’ you vow ‘I shall eschew the spreadsheet and instead I shall shake the hand of each and every one of my beautiful customers. Yes, that’s what I shall do! I will thank them for everything they have done for me. Nay, I shall hug them, kiss them even!’
And so, dear friends, fear not the future as it will be what we shall make it. Free yourself from the festive fug, shake off the cloak of despair and join me on a whirlwind journey through the very best of Yuletide London. And what better place in the world to soak up the Christmas spirit?
God bless Us, Every One!
If you enjoyed my Christmas tale and shopping trip, please pass the link on to friends and colleagues. Oh yes, and follow me @SaundersHoward