This year, I documented the occasion in six different media:
|This is about as accurate as it gets|
|This is about as accurate as it gets|
I've recently just realised something about Christmas for me.
When I was younger, almost every year we used to go to my Nana's (Dad's mum) house for Christmas. Even though my Dad's side of the family is far more disparate, small and estranged than my Mum's, there was always enough of us to gather around her big table every year. The people might be different every year but there was always a big feast.
My Nana had a decent sized house in Beckenham - we even lived with her for a couple of years - so a whole mix of extended family folk could gather comfortably to eat, relax and watch christmas episodes of every single soap opera. The meals were always huge at Nana's. It was like suppertime at Hogwarts, with dishes stacked beyond their physical limits, more potatoes than Ireland could devour in a year and gravy to drown the Titanic. The only christmas photos I remember from my young childhood were in Nana's living room, with decorations across the walls and ceiling, fake snow on the windows and a great many faces I haven't seen in years.
Nana died when I was 16. We had one final Christmas in her house without her before moving on. And Christmas hasn't really been the same since. I'm not saying it's been bad - it's still a lovely day of being together, giving gifts, eating stupid amounts of food, playing games and snoozing on the sofa. But Nana defined Christmas. To me, that's what Christmas was, and since then it's always felt like...an imitation of Christmas.
Maybe it's like when your dog dies and you get a new dog. You love the new dog just as much, but it's a different dog and whenever you picture the concept of dog ownership, that first dog will always stick in your mind, because he was your childhood dog. He gave you the very concept of "dog". I think because Nana died right at the point of me transition from child to adult, that cemented her Christmas as the canonical Christmas in my mind.
So here's to you, Nana. I'll always think of you at Christmas.
|The two hour show represented as a clock. Imagine the show starts at the 12 o' clock position and travels around the clock face until it ends.|
- This week the X Factor arrives in [CITY] where the public have been queuing for [TIME PERIOD], eagre to show the judges their [word meaning TALENT/SKILL]
- This year the competition is [SUPERLATIVE] than ever
- [AGE] year old [CONTESTANT] lives in [TOWN] with [HIS/HER] [SINGLE PARENT]. [HE/SHE] always dreamed of being a singer, but at the age of [AGE] tragedy struck. [DESCRIBE TRAGEDY]. Now, [HE/SHE] comes to the X Factor to get [HIS/HER] dream back on track.
- After [x] hours of auditions, the [EMOTION] is starting to show with [JUDGE]. (Cue montage of [JUDGE] showing [EMOTION])
- We're half way through our time in [CITY] and the judges are frustrated at the [BADJECTIVE] auditions so far. Will [NEXT CONTESTANT]finally prove that [CITY] has the X Factor
- The sun sets on [CITY] and the judges reflect on the day's auditions (Cue montage of judge's talking about [ONE SPECIAL CONTESTANT] from the back seat of their limos)
- [CONTESTANT] has turned up at [VENUE] with one thing on his mind: impressing [JUDGE THAT HE/SHE IDOLISES] (Cue clip of [CONTESTANT] saying, 'I really want to impress [JUDGE]... [CREEPY SENTIMENT ABOUT JUDGE].
- Among the auditionees, is [CONTESTANT]. But [CONTESTANT] has more on her mind than the judges. (Cue contestant talking about her [AILMENT] [FAMILY MEMBER])
- The day is almost over in [CITY] and only one contestant remains. [AGE] year old, [CONTESTANT]. (Contestant is either amazing or on the verge of a mental breakdown)
"In an article in last week's issue we referrer to the image of Jesus Christ being discovered in a puddle of vomit in Benidorm UNDER THE HEADER, THE FATHER, THE SON & THE HOLY VOMIT. However, following several complaints we now realise that an error of judgement was made by our hopeless editor, Dave Bull, and the article should not have been printed. The Courier apologises to all those offended by the article which was meant to be funny as part of the April fool's Day fun but, unfortunately, it was one that went to far. We hope that readers will continue to enjoy The Courier's 'different' take on life and continue to keep an eye on us so that we can bring you the best newspaper in the region... most of the time.
|Murdoch and Hacking were the order of business, with the Norway killer and Amy Winehouse's last week domination showing some strength (click to enlarge)|
Call me a spoilsport but I’m glad my dad wasn’t a lesbianWhen it comes to sweeping generalisations, I am the daddy. All Germans have no sense of humour, all instruction manuals are pointless, all cruise ships are ghastly, every single American is fat, all golfers are boring and all Peugeots are driven by people you wouldn’t have round for dinner