Fic:? Christmas or The Radio Times

Nov 15, 2013 21:01

Title: Radio Times
Rating: PG
Word Count: 299
Notes: I didn't quite join a writing group so much as walk in to one at my local library during one of my lonely rambling walks and the prompt for their next meeting, well it's always going to be Christmas, this time of year isn't it. And so putting pen to paper writes these depressing observations, I probably won't be reading this aloud, not festive enough :-P but I'll put it on here. I have a question mark against fic, for obvious reasons.


If the prompt from a writing group was Christmas, what would you write about? If you had actually contributed the suggestion, again what would you write about?

Christmas; a suggestion, because out of all other Christmases, this is the one you do not know how to approach. Last year Christmas was a home; a family, a large TV, facing a sofa we all gathered on and a copy of the Radio Times, because out of all the Radio Times printed in the year, the Christmas one is an absolute necessity. Besides how else will the Radio Times fund itself for the next year? No one's going to be buying the other fifty one issues!

So despite iPhone's and Tablets and advanced free-view TV Guides, telling you everything you need to know about what's on during the festive season, you find nothing beats the smell of those glossy pages, the smell of the Christmas Radio Times (with of course the rather heavy BBC bias).

But it wasn't just the Radio Times was it. It was the company, the family, right around you, never quite leaving you alone, sharing the food, and fighting over yes the Radio Times, tearing the pages in two, just another step in the process of deciding what to view.

Nothing is quite the same when your alone. Of course you can still buy the Radio Times, still watch the same shows, but it's not quite the same.

"What shall we watch?" you ask the silence around you, you look around your room for one, with your meal for one, sitting in your armchair for one, watching the small TV, picture size-for one; true freedom is having lost everything you ever had to lose. If the silence could reply, it would say, "Anything you want to."

me, breaking away, my crazy family, fic

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