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The year of the locusts

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And the melting ice caps.
And global food shortages (including spice burgers and deep-fried Mars bars).
And the gliding swines.
And the smiley, helpful civil servants.
And the realistic property market.
And the nights out with friends without a single mention of the property market.
And the perfect work/life balance.
And the…

Ah, bollix to that.
It can’t happen.

Can it not?! Really?!

Hear me out.

Today…. for the first time… EVER!

Today… A Christmas tree was bought… without stress*
The kids were happy.
Not fighty-moany-bickery-happy.
Just happy happy.
The decorations were found. And hung. With no fight, or moaning, or bickering.

The tree is here. Decorated. Still standing.

And there hasn’t been a SINGLE tear. No raised voices.

But, I’d better go, I can hear a squadron of flying pigs overhead.

* I was running, saw the not-too-rough young guy freezing his butt off with loads of trees left, asked him how much they were, he said EUR50 to 60, I said “Jayzus, sorry, way out of my league” and was about to dash dawdle off again when he asked me what my budget was, and I told him EUR40 max, and I pointed to a tree, and he said right, and the deal was done there and then, and I asked him for how much longer he’d be around, and he said about half an hour, but he looked really cold already, and I said I’d be back, but not to die of hypothermia waiting for me, and I ran faster back home. and told Mrs Raheny that this year there would be no procrastinating, that I had found the right tree at the right price, and then I drove back to the young guy, and we found the tree straight away, and he said fifty, and before I could argue he remembered the lycra and high vis jacket and pumping sweat, and he said forty. and the deal was done there and then, again, and we have a tree.

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