I AM usually in awe of columnist Robert Macklin’s attention to detail. However, as a great great great nephew of Sir John Forrest, I take issue with his accuracy in “The Gadfly” of September 14. […]
IT’S not yet time to panic, but the end is coming. Not the end of the world, but the end of the year.
If you are anything like me with more family commitments than good sense or time should allow, then the pointy end of the year is fast approaching.
Organisation has never been one of my strong points and I have made progress with the aid of a large wall planner strategically located in our kitchen. But at this stage of the year the next six weeks look like they have been scribbled over by a mouse with Tourette syndrome because the human hand is not meant to write that small but you have to fit so much into what appear to be ever-shrinking text boxes.
Yep, the family calendar is absolutely packed. Final-term school assignments have mounted up with rapidly closing deadlines. At the same time our normal routines are falling apart, disrupted by end-of-year concerts, birthday parties, pre-pre-Christmas parties, final-term school fetes and sporting events that overload every weekend.
I am never ready for this time of year. Despite trying my best to get organised early, it always hits me like a tsunami and I end up tired and wrecked.
This year is obviously heading that way. Soon there’ll be frantic Christmas shopping, presents, cards, a turkey and everything else.
It’s really with a sense of dread that I anticipate doing battle with throngs of people increasingly desperate as they try to find that perfect gift, long queues in every shop, sore feet, a depleted wallet, and fraught negotiations. Yes, that train is coming down the tunnel fast.
I wish I had words of wisdom or at least felt confident enough in my own abilities to survive the approaching maelstrom to offer some advice, but well, nothing much works for me apart from a good wall calendar, making use of the internet for Christmas shopping and delegating as many tasks as possible. After all, Santa has elves.
And the other thing to remember is that the pre-Christmas, end-of-year chaos does always run its course. Bring on Boxing Day, I say. A day of doing very little apart from snacking on leftovers and watching the start of the Sydney-Hobart yacht race on the telly. Best day of the year! If only one could hit the fast forward button to get there.