Maybe old Chuck Dickens was onto something back in 1843. With only 4 more sleeps until Santa (or the metric equivalent) arrives, anyone who's been near the stores could vouch for the distinct lack of Christmas spirit.
Sure, there's decorations galore; the charity wrappers are doing brisk business on behalf of the less fortunate; and the financial pundits spewing gloom and doom obviously haven't tried to get a parking spot within carting distance of any shopping mall.
But here's the down side. There's a cheery greeting at the check-out, but the faces of the shoppers tell tales tall and true of weariness, heartache, and sore feet. And that's just on the way into the main doors. The old 'drop shoulder' is making a come-back amongst those who haven't punted a ball for generations; elbows are getting a work-out beyond anything a pump class could achieve.
And just try to get a copy of the latest Stephanie Myer book either in a chain store or a book shop. Forget it. Everyone has sold out. If that isn't just the last straw ...
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