Every year, a house in my hometown, goes a little bit crazy for Christmas. And each year, they seem to deck their exterior halls bigger and better than before.
I dread to think what their electricity bill is at the end of this month. It must be through the roof – a little like the their inflatable Santa.
Oli had never seen this house before, so the other day we swung by it to have a closer look. We parked the car on the side of the road and hopped out to explore this explosion of festive light; all in the name of charity.
This house is so bright and so lit up, that astronauts must be able to see it from space. I’m convinced of it. And as I walked around it the other day, I started to wonder how the inhabitants or even the neighbours next door – and opposite for that matter – manage to sleep with this extravagant illumination, so bright outside. When do they switch it all off for goodness sake?
But people love it. For all it’s gaudy, tackiness they love it. I love it. It’s outlandish and ridiculous and tacky but it’s also quite magical and it makes people smile and laugh at the sheer vastness of it.
They must have to start preparing this extravaganza in July; it must take them for ever. And where is all this stuff stored throughout the year? How many lightbulbs are used?
But whatever the answers to my many burning questions may be, I enjoyed walking around this garish winter wonderland and seeing Oli’s incredulous face as he took in all the many inflatable and bright sights and sounds around him.
It may not be my ideal cup of tea and I may never decorate the outside of my home in the same way (like EVER) but I still loved it nonetheless. It felt festive and fun and I like the idea that all this effort is to raise a little extra cash for charity. It’s the season of good will after all.