Travelling is a Christmas tradition. Today stories about Bristol airport, community transport and returning to hospital with thank-you gifts. We even hear of someone walking home for Christmas. Take a hint Chris Rea.
Barring tragedy, most journeys have a known outcome. We like our traditions to be er, traditional. That said there's some updating needed:
The partridge was run down as I swerved to avoid a pear tree felled by the wind.
Turtle doves have been humanely destroyed in view of their many diseases.
Due to Brexit only British hens are available.
Calling birds have been vocally modified to avoid upsetting country dwellers of a non-rural background.
Gold rings can be bought off that Dave who pops into the pub every now and again with interesting stuff know what I mean.
Orders for live and fertile geese could not be fulfilled at this time. One frozen goose, giblets included.
Swans belong to the Crown. Anyone in possession of seven should be reported.
Non-gender specific milking persons please. Do not threaten the human rights of male milkers.
Vote now to save your favourite dancers and their partners.
Lords are mainly too old to be a-leaping.
Sequenced piping samples playing dub lang syne on heavy rotation and Hammerhead 1.0 rhythm programmes can be downloaded via Windows media player to conclude your 12 days.
Well it's amazing how things move on isn't it? What was once a cool list of gifts from a true love now becomes either controversial or out-of-date. The knack for those of us with faith, if I may call it that, is to talk about Jesus in an updated and interesting way whilst remembering that the old message is not old-fashioned. I trust your Christmas journey contains many deity-specific tidings and wish you a happy one.
