Bag-packing In Tesco

You can probably tell from the title that this is going to be an INCREDIBLY EXCITING BLOG POST!!! If so, I must compliment you on your finely honed perceptions! (And you think I’m being ironic?!?) I went bag-packing for the first time in my life on Saturday, and thus began my first foray into that noblest of trades. It was not entirely of my own volition mind you; my cousin and a couple of her friends from medicine in UCD needed people to help out with some fundraising and I was more than happy [(-_-)] to oblige! But you know what? In the end it actually turned out to be a lot of fun!

Le bag.

The whole point of the collection was to raise money for a hospital in Sierra Leone, with most of the donations going towards medical supplies such as antibiotics and vaccines which my cousin and her friends would be bringing over with them when they went over to assist. (As far as I know they actually paid for their own travel expenses.) It was a surprisingly noble cause, and the amount of money that people donated was, I think, a fair reflection of that. It was also a much needed salve for my normally laid-back self-image; if I had gotten off my butt to collect for something silly like new jerseys for a football team I don’t think I’d have ever been able to look at my reflection straight again! Continue reading

Advertisements

A White Christmas

Oh how the tree glitters like snow.

And will the forest miss it anyway?

Celebrate and decorate; cover everything with empty tinsel.

The carol singers pirouette,

And we graciously grant them more than indifference.

One penny here, one reluctantly there,

“Wouldn’t you hate to be so poor?”

We sink our teeth in lakes of gravy,

(Harland and Wolff would be so proud.)

Our chins drip fowl grease; not sick for want of food – too sick to stomach more.

Santa’s workshop drips as well; his elves are little Chinese kids.

“Well, don’t their parents love them?” Because we know to show we do.

And the rest of the world can wait,

For this one lovely Winter’s day.

When we share for sharing’s sake – never just for force of tradition.

And the Christmas shoppers flock the tree,

Flapping violently,

Shoving in consternation,

I see their eyes light up like magpies’.

And oh how the tree glitters like snow.

As the other birds weep.

A white Christmas,

The coldest time of year,

When we paint our consciences to match our skin.