It’s the last weekend before Christmas and the first of the school holidays, an already tense time aggravated by a blazing heatwave, whipped to a peak by a cruel North wind.  It’s a perfect Yuletide storm; a season of ill-will to all.There are so many opportunities this week to lose it; to rail against the Gods of heat and the wind and the dark advertising wizards who fuel the demands of my candy cane crazed children.  My only go-to for festive rage is to flip the rushing Christmas onto its back with an aikido-like throw revealing a vulnerable thanksgiving underbelly. To an outsider this may appear as if I’m walking around a retail outlet muttering odd incantations like these;

The steering wheel may be too hot to hold, but I give thanks for steering wheels, bicycles and a range of public transport options.

My children may whinge about getting the wrong presents, but I give thanks that’s all they have to moan about.

My stomach may groan after too much Christmas dinner, but I give thanks we have farmers and cooks who fill me with such irresistible and tasty foods.

My sleep may be hot and fitful, but I give thanks for a place to live with running water, gas, power and sewage (yes bless reliable utilities, they’re a bloody miracle).

And then there are blanket thanks for people who let me in in traffic, who smile at me on bike paths, who help me find the right tram or train at unfamiliar stops, who teach my children in term time, who heal me after barbecue mishaps or insertions of small objects into little ears and noses.

Aaah is that a cool change – thank you, thank you, thank you….

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