Do They Know It’s NOT Christmas?

When Midge Ure and Bob Geldof penned ‘It’s Christmas Time’, the starting lyrics of their charity single, Feed the World, I doubt they imagined people would be singing it in high summer. Perhaps they should have called the song Do They Know It’s NOT Christmas?.

Last week, in late July, Harrods opened its Christmas department. Though the store is famed for starting its festivities prematurely, this year is the earliest it has launched its tinsel-topped collection with 150 calendar days still to mark off until it’s time to stuff the turkey.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. There’s nothing like gorging yourself on roast potatoes and gravy, or a hearty singalong to your favourite Crimbo carol. But there’s a reason we associate Christmas with snowflakes and woolly Santa hats; the politically correct say ‘Season’s greetings’ – and the season they mean isn’t summer.

There can be only one reason why Harrods is providing a rooftop ice rink when temperatures outside are in the 20s, and I have a feeling it has something to do with the jingling bells of their tills.

But Harrods isn’t the sole perpetrator. Selfridges is already selling Union Flag baubles and hats with reindeer antlers, and Hamleys has been lengthening children’s wishlists for a month already.

It’s one thing to complain about the lack of heat and sunshine this summer – a valid grievance, in my opinion, and one which I am fond of making as I stare wistfully at my unused beach kimono. It is quite another, though, to mourn the lack of summer while embracing the onset of Christmas. It’s one or the other. Christmas shopping should not be done in shorts and flip-flops.

Of course, there are some perks to this madness; you never need to ask me twice to go shopping, whatever the purchase, and sending cards now will increase their chance of arriving before Christmas – although there’s still no guarantee.

I’m not being a Scrooge. I just haven’t even got my bikini on yet, let alone stowed it away for the winter, and the thought of five months of tinny tunes on the radio is enough to make even Santa relocate to Narnia (always winter, never Christmas).

At this time of year we should be sitting inside, gazing longingly at travel brochures and searching for the perfect summery-patterned umbrella. Forget Christmas for now – otherwise, with almost half a year to go, you’ll tire of Yuletide.

Image by martinirosso66 courtesy of Flickr