Worldly possessions

With the slide into December bringing waves of Christmas frenzy to submerge us, I realise how much I’ve already shed my ‘worldly preoccupations’. The shops which press me to buy gifts – STUFF, things not needed, probably not wanted and certainly not worth their weight in a rucksack – seem obscene.

It’s hard on the people we’ll be giving presents to, I know. A certain lack of glitz in the stockings this year. But a comfort, surely, for them to know there’s no need to give us anything either. A year, if ever there was, to give goats and rainforests, if only it wasn’t so last year.
And as for parties.

Without meaning to, I find I’ve adopted the three-outfit routine spoken of in hallowed tones by pilgrims. Three jeans, three sweatshirts, three jumpers in constant rotation. My new boots need breaking in, so why wear anything more fancy? Contemplating party clothes scares me. Dig out a frock and flimsy shoes? Absurd! Jewellery? What for?

Reviewing my appearance, I realise I’ve almost stopped wearing make-up. Almost. I’m still to be convinced mascara is not worth its weight in a rucksack…