There’s something disconcerting about stumbling across
Easter Egg displays when our Christmas decoration boxes are still in the dining
room, waiting to be put away in the under-stairs cupboard. My pathetic excuse for that is that we resolutely
keep the 12th night tradition so we’re still within the acceptable window for
returning them from whence they came.
But our personal, dilatory
attitude to closing down Christmas still doesn't excuse a head- long
consumerist scramble merely days after the recent festive fervour finished,
towards the next religious celebration that’s been overtaken by secular
excess. Now, where are the Hot Cross
Buns?
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