Well, not long to go now. Santa Claus may have to be cancelled this year. Or maybe not.

 Well, not long to go now. Santa Claus may have to be cancelled this year. Or maybe not. 

You do get the feeling that Santa Claus may have to be cancelled this year. The rumour is that the chimney he takes such enormous pleasure in tumbling down, is now in grave jeopardy of not responding to all that Ho Ho cheery demeanour and that white beard looks as though it may be in dire need of a trim. Children of the world though will be excitedly anticipating the arrival of their jolly old friend from the land of presents and gifts, staying awake in the early hours of Christmas Day just in case he's forgotten them. 

But this year Christmas takes on an entirely more mournful and melancholy look. This is clearly not the way 2020 was supposed to end and besides it's hard to know whether to laugh or cry. Admittedly it is indeed Christmas but not the one as shown on your yearly calendar. We'll still have that honey-sweet glass of mulled wine half-way through Christmas morning, still sharing pleasantries with limited family and friends but realistically this is not the way it was intended to be. 

Deep in the heart of London's West End the big department stores, non and essential shops should be looking forward to a booming and prosperous time, when the whole of Oxford and Regent Street should have been bristling with commercial vibrancy, eager transactions and the imminent sales. But not this year. There is still a sense that the brief Christmas respite from Covid 19 may have a beneficial effect on the profits and revenue streams of Marks and Spencer, Selfridges, John Lewis but sadly not Debenhams. 

Debenhams, one of the once-thriving nationwide chain of shops and a firmly established high street fixture, is now about to go out of business and its days are now numbered. It is the victim of the dreaded and destructive coronavirus, a victim of distressing circumstances. Since March Debenhams, rather like most of its neighbours, has been suffering the blues with no customers, no finance and a closed sign that was deeply depressing to all who once flooded through its doors. 

And yet London, for much of the year, has indeed resembled a desert, a wasteland where the ghosts of Christmases past are now nothing more than a silent Charlie Chaplin film. There is numbness, stunned astonishment, devastation in the air, weeping, sobbing, heads in hands and distraught desolation. How did it ever come to this? Was this somehow destined to happen or did we not read the signs that a global pandemic would just sweep through the world like a deadly, uncontrollable tornado that just lifts up houses, trees and people as if they weren't there?

But what happened to London; its theatres, its cinemas, its gambling casinos, its multitude of souvenir shops, its kaleidosopic colours, its flashing, flickering, tempting Piccadilly Circus neon advertisements, its unashamed brazenness, its outrageousness, its eccentricity, its movement, its energy, the cosmopolitan restaurants, China Town with its mystical flavours and spices, buffets for all. Can London be saved, redeemed and rescued from this viral onslaught? Will it ever be able to stand on its two feet again or will it just wilt into oblivion never to be seen again?

This should be the time when London and the West End should burst into life, showing off to the rest of the world that it still has its seductive charms. Normally the London pavements would be heaving under the weight of shoppers from all over the world,  thousands of tourists flocking from all corners of the universe just to eat and drink at the Ritz or Savoy hotel, taking in the traditional pantomime and then having enough money left over for a bag of chips.

You would like to think that the window shoppers will still arrive in their droves, still amazed at those cute sleighs, fake snow, and the eye-catching Christmas trees decorated with well-wrapped boxes and loads of tinsel and glitter. The cynics will probably tell us again that they can't stand Christmas and wish that it could be permanently banned. They'll tell us that it's a complete waste of time and money,  a cheap marketing exercise to wrench from us our life savings. All of that fuss over nothing. Besides we could get half of those ornaments and electrical products at half the price locally. 

The presence of Argos and Poundland on our high streets is perhaps a salutary warning to the big boys that if you can be criminally expensive then we can always take our custom elsewhere. So where are we to go with this seemingly indefinite affliction, this nasty disease, this now tier driven virus? You would have thought we'd have a break from all of this death and chronic illness. The chances are that we probably will if only briefly since the government has kindly given us a few days of freedom to enjoy ourselves over this festive fiesta. But not for long apparently. 

Over at 10 Downing Street, the holly and ivy are still in abundant supply but for Boris Johnson this would not have been the way he thought it would pan out. Johnson is currently in the throes of trying to wrap up an amicable deal with his EU pals over trading relations and goodbye Brussels because we don't need you anymore. You're surplus to requirements so turn off the light as you leave us for the last time. Oh dear what a year, hey? Things can and will get better. Definitely.