Christmas, what Christmas?

What’s missing in our lives is whatever’s promised most ardently to us. On the cereal box this morning, I notice Your Bowl, Your Way. I get to decide, says the paragraph underneath, whether I “enjoy our breakfast classic” just with milk or with fruit and nuts as well.

Wow, I’m in control. All I have to do is buy a box of this mass-produced cereal and I can make my own decisions: just milk? Nuts? Later today, I have an app that lets me do my banking “on the go”, while slumped on my sofa, and if I shuffle down to the supermarket later, I can buy “food on the go” to eat on a bench in the park. Gosh, I’m dynamic.

It’s enough to make me want to buy a boxy little hatchback and cruise the deserted streets of TV-ad city, or perhaps Book Now! a holiday in a totally empty beachfront resort where the locals all know me and the maitre d’ is always delighted to see me. Gosh, I stand out from the crowd. I matter.

No, wait. It’s that time of year — my sofa is already filling up with a diverse, multi-generational extended family of laugh-a-minute lovable characters all wearing Christmas jumpers and party hats. And yes — whatever that was, it was hilarious. Look — there on the screen: we’re all laughing. Gosh, I’m festive.

Ah, the promise of Christmas. How happy we all are. Better go shopping.