Hearts, Flowers and Expectations

Trinity was kind enough to leave me a comment at blog explosion.

Curious to see who I had inspired to write, I checked out her blog. The latest entry is in despair of Valentine's day. No Trinity, I'm not a 'girly girl' either and have an occasional personal belief that everything over the age of fifteen that giggles, simpers, bats its eyelids (or, God forbid, chews its own hair or practices looking gormless in the mirror) should be lined up and shot. Let the real women through, for heaven's sake.

Nonetheless, for all the strength of emotion in the two, very starkly divided camps created by Valentines day, at least its not Christmas and doesnt have the suicide statistics to match.

Why is that?

November is the worst year of the month for college, school and business drop outs - the sludge of the incoming weather without the festivities seems to make too many people think WTF, and WTF is contagious. Does the whole weather thing make Christmas more dire than Valentines Day?

Given the way that the weather patterns are playing 'peekaboo' and 'surprise' these days, I think not. Nonetheless, after the drudgery of November and the first cold winds, when nobody can give a rat's fart for anything, I would have thought that the 'midwinter' knees-up, irrespective of religion, would be a much needed tonic. Maybe thats it. Maybe being left out of get-togethers and a bit of hope is somehow more tragic at that time of year than later on.

On the other hand, perhaps we are geared up to see Valentines day as a time of giving and Christmas as a time of receiving, when, against the better judgement of our rational minds, the subconscious compares what is on offer (complete with financial consequences and apparent assessment of human worth rather than fanciability) against the magical times of childhood.

Maybe we spend all our adult lives trying to recreate the sense of wonderment and joy and downright contentedness that childhood Christmases brought. Valentines day, after all, passed most of us by for the first seven years at least.

Thank God I've got children , I can pass the buck and make the whole expectations thing about them and not me - helping them to see December the way that I saw it; or is my desire to do that only perpetuating the chance of adult disappointment?

Answers on a postcard please, or in the comments box below, if the winter WTFs don't still have you by the throat.............