Call me Scrooge if you wish but nothing grinds me gears more than a Christmas tree decorated or a festive tune belted out before December 1.
Admittedly, there are worse things in the world – genocide, terrorism, Love Island – but people who celebrate the festive period before the calendar is flicked onto its final page are right up there.
When Hugh Grant, of [insert one of his many films here] fame, said he walks around the streets “peeving”, I thought… YES! In the lead-up to December, that is exactly how I feel when I trot past a window with garish Christmas lights adorned upon it, or am forced to listen to Michael Bublé when doing my weekly shop.
Though, that last bit I stand by all year round.
I understand why people want to escape a world of wars and dread-inducing electoral results, but I draw the line at celebrating Christmas before December.
I love the festive period, don’t get me wrong – but just when it should be celebrated.
Just like I love an Easter egg, but I don’t want one in July.
The last thing I want if for this column to come across like I am some sort of Grinch.
Far from it. My Christmas tree went up last Sunday, along with the opening of the first doors on my advert calendars (yes, calendars!) and a listen to my festive playlist. Christmas, I stress, is my favorite time of year. And cold dark November is one of my worst.
But that’s fine.
As Robert Plan exclaimed in his Led Zeppelin tune, you just can’t have the good times without the bad.
The existential dread of the freezing November nights are worth surviving for the thrill of December’s bright lights.
Christmas is a time for joy and celebration. But, for heaven’s sake, just wait until December before unravelling the tinsel.