Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Saturday, 24 December 2011
An empty, sleeping town
We are Christmas Eve. In less than an hour and half it will be Christmas. I did a last minute run to Sainsbury's before it closed tonight, to buy some last minutes stuff for Christmas (Coca Cola and brussel sprouts, which my brother thought was quite funny). Something struck me: almost everything was close and so quiet. There where some people, many wearing Santa Claus' hats (!), walking to the pubs that were (are?) still open, almost empty, and the roads were empty. Usually there are a lot of cars driving until late at night, especially on a Saturday, but it was so quiet. With the snow it would have felt almost natural, but this seemed so strange here. This is not as new to me as the deserted train, but it was still unusual. I come from a place where people travel to see the family at this time, or go to the Midnight Mass (their only trip to church in a year), anyway you can see people outside until midnight, where Christmas starts with Minuit Chrétiens (O Holy Night) in every church and on the radio. There is a quiet febrility before Christmas. Here it is just... Quiet. I don't dislike it, in fact I find quiet little towns quite pleasant. But I do find it unusual.