Stepping towards Yuletide. Emotionally.

A large portion of my time is spent in Belfast's Victoria Square.

I had to pass through the crowds on Friday.  Forty per cent of them were stationary Christmas Trees that are simple and pretty.  The rest of the crowd were young, free and enjoying whatever the latest Twilight film had taught them.

With working at the nearby cinema, my exhaustion was starting to kick in.

And it could have been very easy for me to kick up.

The amount of hours I've been working is close to vast.  And that's maybe what causes distress when I see hundreds of everyone else enjoy themselves.  Hopefully my holiday time booked off from the cinema will relieve me.

I do have a large book collection to try to read.

Some things about Chris Gray never change.  Resorting to books will always be a staple in my lifestyle.

Is it me or am I the only single person left?  It certainly feels like that.  Certainly not a complaint.  If anything I like to think it gives me that state of individuality I was always meant to uphold.

Despite the long shifts and the lack of social life, I have had small items of pleasure.  A haircut.  My first Mince Pie of the cold season.  Sleep is better.

Although am still tired.  Which made church a little difficult this week.

Ideas of a faith I once had are still being bounced about.  You really do need to be a child to believe in God. Which is maybe why we all long for that time when summer days stretched out to eons.  Where at Christmas you could feel the magic sprinkle down the chimney at night.

Often I could be criticized for believing in God.  There's something fluffier and more sentimental about it.

It's either that or watch the Christmas 24 channel.

The End (before the beginning) of Summer

"I had a dirty McDonalds," I said.  It was the end of my break and the cinema going public hadn't shown up for our attractions.

"What did you have?" asked Enya.

"A Spicy Veggie sandwich.  Large fries.  A Twix McFlurry and a Tropicana."

"What do you mean 'a dirty McDonalds'?  You're a vegetarian.  You can't even do 'a dirty McDonalds' without still being healthy."

Enya's probably right.  I spend a lot of time worrying about my diet.  Whether or not I'm taking in enough fibre or Vitamin C.  Maybe not looking at the salt content on packages of food that I don't expect to be much of.  Or generally treating each day as a Saturday and therefore it's fine to have that large Salted Popcorn, Large Pepsi Max and that bag of White Chocolate Buttons*.

Right now there are noodles cooking.  Noodles that I will sprinkle Soy Sauce into.  

Memories of being a student and dealing with whatever tidbits you had left in your cupboard.  

I miss those days.

I've been busy.  And because of this my grocery shopping has not occurred.  

And it is with this excuse I also make claim of why my blogging hasn't managed to be seen for too long.

So it is now, on the longest day, that I make my return.

As a child I would be taught that after the 21st June, each day would have less hours of daylight.  That already we were heading into winter.  Which is a trifle unfair.  Imagine getting your summer holidays from school but being told that it's no longer summer.  As a child who over thought, this was depressing.

Similar, a few years ago was the late Linda Smith's view of summer being ruined for children with a similar idea.  It can be seen on this episode of Room 101 (if you have a spare half an hour, do watch).  

You could argue that living in Northern Ireland with a wet weather system, it doesn't particularly matter about longer days and the placing of seasons.  But surely we all have memories of days where time isn't applicable, sunny days are grasped, cartoons are viewed in heaps, salads become the main meal and movies at the cinema are full of heroes.

And if we're honest, every year, no matter where we are in our lives, we probably imagine this summer to be the same.

*Which I usually mix in with the popcorn once I get bored of it.  We buy bulks of it, yet manage to drop more than we eat.

What the Dickens...

Each night, for the past weekend, I climb into bed with a copy of Charles Dickens' Great Expectations. And I only get a few pages ahead.

It's not Dickens' fault. It's no one's really. The tasks I carry out during the day make me a doe eyed and wavy headed guy.

Today was my day off.

I had lunch with a writer / friend / coffee drinker*.

Then off to 2, 500 words for some money.

And some dinner which was wholesome but stuffing.

Life isn't bad. It's busy however.

Am starting to see why my parents watched television when they returned home from work. Maybe there's a chance to catch one Great Expectation adaptation on one channel. After all, if I can't get to Dickens, I'll rely on someone who can.

*I'll let Matt delete where applicable

'I will wander 'til the end of time' - Evanescence

I'll return.

I have to.

Yesterday I should have been coloured. Literally.

Instead I watched others. And now I should have to wait a year to do so.

Let's see what I can do in the meantime.