Monday, November 28, 2005


Spent some of my lunch hour trying to organise my Christmas presents. I quite enjoy crimbo shopping, I even like the naff music. Apart from one song.

On December 23rd 1994, The Scotsman and I were travelling from London to Yorkshire, where his parents now live, when we were passing Tibshelf, on the M1. We were suddenly aware of a crash up ahead; The Scotsman stood on the brakes, and it looked as if we were going to avoid any trouble, but a BMW hit us at speed from the side and we were catapulted into the back of a white van. I've never felt so much pressure on my chest. Then there was a silence, punctuated by only one sound. The whole of the front of the car was caved in. The dashboard had been driven into my knees. But the tape was still going; the Christmas tape we'd bought for light relief on the trip up.

It was a track by a certain Mr McCartney. Simply having a Wonderful Christmas Time. There was a pause for all of three seconds, which seemed to last forever, until The Scotsman pressed pause and said

"i think we've had quite enough of that."

Our car was a write-off, the Scotsman had a broken bone in his hand, and I had very dramatic bruising. Bruising which actually lasted for 4 months, which I didn't think possible. Thanks to the AA, we were picked up from the services at Brighouse by a taxi driver, who took us up to Yorkshire. Many thanks by the way to the lorry driver who towed all the vehicles off to the hard shoulder, and the staff at the little cottage hospital that we hobbled to on Christmas Eve. Although we later found out that the lorry driver got a nice little bonus for every hour he worked into Cristmas Eve. Hey, thanks anyway.

Anyway, if there's one thing I can't stand about Christmas, it's that song. I respect Sir Paul, I love the music of the Beatles, I even have a soft spot for The Frog Chorus, but I just can't stand that song.