AND THE SHOUTING DIES
the wise men and the camels depart …
… and after the Lord Mayor’s parade come the corporation shovellers.
SO THE MIRACLE OF CHRISTMAS
fades again into the background cacophony for another year. All we are left with is memory and the few snaps we scored. Like these buggers below—I had to wait until quite late in the evening to get them, dammit.
ONE OF THE LOCAL
businesses that deals in earth-works and culverts and stuff sets up a crib-scene every year. And every year I wait with bated breath for the wee donkey to reappear, but sadly I think ol’ Donk has gone the way of the dinosaur. (And yes, I may be an atheist but I’m not religious about it; we festering baby-eaters are allowed to enjoy too, you know.)
This above is your eyeful on approach.
—is what you get when you poke your lens through the mesh. A classic ‘nativity’ scene, no? But wait … all may not be what it appears.
That awesomely glum looking sheep, for example, is sitting like a dog. Is there a coded message here*? And that cattle-cow on the left seems to be looking away from the Guest Of Honour, not towards with due adoration as one might expect.
SO WE INTRUDE FURTHER
into a scene that should be one of tranquility, singing angels, feathers, and loving gazes. No?
But what would the studious student of body language and the unsubtle postures of human emotions read here?
Personally I would think that there’s a wee hint of sadness in the empty handed Joseph character.
For the most obvious of reasons—he was away all those months carpentating in Judea, doing his best as a dutiful devoted distant doting husband to keep fish and olives on the table … and now he has a honky baby son. One that will grow up to be the all-time classic blue-eyed fair-haired JC of N; one that will resemble him (Joe) in name only.
is Mary’s posture telling him, other than touch me and you will be circumsised again you lout!
And so she should be, peeved. She was never unfaithful to ol’ Joe—not with any man.
And it was an angel of The Lord, not just some smooth-talker off the street. So there**.
I WALKED AWAY
in sadness but not without one last glance that took in the three Wise Guys standing sitting standing in silence and wisely saying nothing whilst desperately clutching their gifts, wishing they were anywhere else but here right now …
Only 3 and a bit more months to Easter …
* Or have I been reading too many Dan Brown type books? Brrr …
** Honi soit qui mal y pense