Thursday, 24 December 2009
Well, this may be more of a moan than a proper post. But hey, it's my blog - and you can't say I didn't warn you.
It's also link heavy. Tough.
So Merry Christmas. Here's to another Christmas working, the ninth year in a row that I won't be seeing my family, drinking and catching up with my siblings, laughing with loved ones or opening presents on the day I'm supposed to.
Here's to another 'festive' day of gang fights and alcohol fuelled violence.
Here's to another day of trying to keep chipper whilst waiting to start a ten hour night duty, another day of trying to remain sober and interested with the foreboding presence of the upcoming night shift looming large in my mind.
Here's to yet another day of taking a moment to stand watching the street, desolate apart from happy families going on Christmas walks and couples in love enjoying the cold before heading in to warm up. And another feeling of embarrassment as I smile towards them to show I'm part of their day; before the rush of heat in the head as I realise I'm not part of their day at all, they don't know me, and won't be seeing me unless their Christmas goes badly wrong.
Here's to another day of trying to comfort distraught weeping Burglary victims, and being unable to answer the question "but what about the kid's presents?"
Here's to praying not to have to deal with another RTA that leaves blood on my uniform and a destroyed, bereft family. Here's to the prayer being answered, and not having to knock on an unsuspecting family's door with a heavy thud and a heavier heart.
Here's to another Christmas Eve night by myself with nothing but a bottle with a percentage mark on it for company. Here's to answering cheery phone calls from friends and family and trying to keep the blackness out for the length of the phone call for their benefit.
Here's to another long shift, after a day trying not to think of the coming descent into an uncaring night, with no one but the LAS to wave to. Here's to another end of a Christmas shift, coming home to an empty lonely home and a cold unfriendly bed.
This year I will be thinking again of the men and women that will never have to share another Christmas like this again.
I'll also be thinking of the boys and girls that can't be home for Christmas at all, and the ones that will never be coming home for Christmas.
Merry Christmas readers.