Christmas is what??

I realised today as I struggled through the city centre and into Marks and Spencer’s to do some food shopping that Christmas is a bit fake.
Now before you think I am about to launch into a ‘bah humbug’ situation hear me out ok?
My reasoning for this opinion is quite easy, in the shops there was absolutely no seasonal cheer, people were almost punching pensioners to get the last batch of honey glazed parsnips (like roasting fresh ones with a dash of honey was so fucking difficult?).
The second point I want to make is that there were so many goods on sale that helped the public ‘Create the ambience of Christmas’.
Now here’s the rub, has anyone reading this EVER walked into a home in the last thirty years and been greeted by the smell of roasting chestnuts, fresh pine cones, aromatic spices mixed with the tangy fragrance of mistletoe, home baked mincemeat pies or logs crackling on an open fire?
I think the answer is NO…well not me anyhow.
All my Christmases from at least aged four that I recall had the smell of debt ridden parents trying to smoke them selves to death over the stench of cheap beer and burnt chicken. In the background were four unruly kids snapping each other with elastic bands to see who could get the last tangerine whilst a mangy dog ripped the last piece of foil from a greasy roasting tin as he licked the hardened chicken fat.
Yet in Marks and Spencer’s you can buy a room ‘fragrance’ of ‘Spicy Holly and Fresh Christmas Berries’ …why? I have never smelt that in my life?
It means nothing to me and reminds me of the cheap air fresheners that permeate every fancy hotel elevator that I have had the unfortunate occasion to sniff and choke on.
Yet we are told that we aren’t really taking part unless we peel apples and soak them in mulled wine and offer the hot fruity drinks to our friendly neighbours who come round in hand knitted jumpers and cheery rosy cheeks!
My neighbours are mostly Muslim and have pissed off to Oman for the Holidays and some have even gone to Palestine; one or two of the other people in the street spat racist comments and called them heathens as they packed up a huge car with kids and boxes as they flew out of Glasgow. How ironic, as my neighbours were actually going to the place Christ was apparently born! I bet there is no smell of pine cones there, but the smell of fighting and gunfire will always be associated with Christmas to the wee kids that live in that city.
Merry Christmas one and all.