Monday, 22 December 2014


Now I have passed the festive season before in some fairly un-Christmassy places - China at the Shaolin Temple with hundreds of kids karate-ing in formation, Morocco where Damien endured the worst bout of food-poisoning from the unkindest clown in Fez,  even Egypt and a poor Egyptian kid being made to dress up as Santa and glide down the Nile. But in the end somehow it was still always Christmas. Unfamiliar and yet still sweet. I remember carrying a small Christmas tree around China for a few days so we could set it up in out unheated rooms, drink cups of noodle soup round it and wrap gifts in toilet paper.

Turkey, I suspect is going to be another one of these occasions except I honestly cannot feel anything in my heart at all. It is  like a giant sheet of grey sellophane has been wrapped around the city, muting the lights and the trees and even the oddly be-jewelled reindeer I see decorating the streets. A strange sort of feeling but survivable of course.

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