Sure is.   Maybe it`s the time of the year or maybe, as I get older, the events of the year become less and less appealing.  Maybe it`s just me but as darkness descends in late afternoon and the first frosts of winter arrive on cold easterly winds I find myself looking at what is in store for us over the next few weeks and months.

And what a depressing prospect it is.  To get arguably the most painful issue out of the way and done with first, I have so far received no response to my appeal on the village web page for help from a local psychoanalyst to provide some much needed counselling following the Saints embarrassing drubbing at the hands of Leicester City last Friday.  It didn`t get any better last night as they went down to a 3-1  Cup defeat away at Manchester City and they now face the prospect of yet another morale crushing encounter at the Etihad in a league match this coming Saturday.   Next week I might reach crisis point.

And before us lies a series of events, some trivial, some downright ridiculous, others simply irksome -  I leave you to decide which is which..  They begin tomorrow night with the imported nonsense of Halloween when kids roam the streets, knock on doors and demand to be given treats or else.  Then comes Bonfire Night, celebrating the failed attempt to blow up Parliament about 400 years ago (it would make more sense to celebrate a successful attempt to blow up Parliament?)  Trouble is, with all the banging and crashing, out faithful Golden retriever will probably go bonkers and we will have yet another disturbed night.

Then the prospect of yet another General Election in early December.  I don`t know about you but I am heartily tired of politics and especially the politicians who have behaved quite abominably over the past three and a bit years in their dismal failure to carry out the `instruction` they were given by the majority of electors to sensibly arrange an orderly departure from the oppressive clutches of the European Union.   The General Election campaign got off the ground this morning and already I am tired of hearing yet more lies disguised as party manifestos and spending pledges.

After that you would think that Christmas would come as light relief but sadly it is nowadays little more than another excuse for a commercial bonanza which has lost all sense of the true meaning of Christmas which, as Bart Simpson recalled, is when we all come together to celebrate Santa`s birthday.  Ho ho ho !!

And then it`s New Year`s Day and yet more banging, crashing and Retriever meltdown.

You can tell I`ve not had a good time lately - a streaming cold and hacking cough (aka man `flu,) four visits to the dentist in the last couple of weeks, a visit to the optician to get a prescription for new glasses following cataract operations and the onset of my Seasonal Affective Disorder (SADness.)

But I must pull myself together, count my blessings, put on a brave face with a stiff upper lip and face the coming period with more optimism and hope.  It would help if England win the Rugby World Cup on Saturday and the Saints manage to turn their current slough of despond into the sunny uplands of Premier League survival but maybe that is asking just too much of a troublesome world.

Have a nice day!

Well, we survived Halloween last night, which was a great relief especially to Barney, who doesn`t take kindly to his evenings being disturbed.   I think it helped that we turned off the outside light and didn`t leave a pumpkin on the doorstep - there seems to be a useful convention in our village that you only get `tricked and treated` if you do leave a pumpkin outside your front door - so we had a peaceful evening which by-passed the imported commercial mayhem which Halloween seems to have become.  

So, next stop Bonfire Night with all its gunpowder, treason and plot, scheduled for this coming Sunday.   Now I could understand the idea of celebrating on 5th November if the Gunpowder Plot of 1605 to blow up Parliament and assassinate King James had actually succeeded.  Instead, it turned out to be a dismal failure and so I am left wondering what on earth we are doing spending all that money on fireworks, going to all that trouble and causing yet more mayhem in order to celebrate what was a truly spectacular failure.  

But then it, like Halloween, has turned into yet another commercial jamboree that I could do without.   And don`t get me started on Christmas - please.......

SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER..

It`s really not too surprising that I suffer from S.A.D. which seems to have become more acute as the years have rolled by.   Maybe there`s a direct correlation between anno domini and one`s degree of bewilderment but I have just about settled back unto `life` after an enjoyable if fleeting summer, only to be confronted by the almost terrifying prospect of what awaits me in the coming weeks.

First up is Halloween, yet another pointless import from America when all reason seems to go out of the window.   My doorbell gets rung, Barney barks and cowers in his corner, I open the door and pretend to be scared, demands are made and threats issued as I`m given a choice between trick or treat. It`s a bit like demanding with menaces. My immediate response is to say `I`ll have the treat, please,` whereupon the puzzled expression on angelic faces softens my curmudgeonly heart and I hand out the bowl of goodies I had hoped to enjoy later on.

Then Bonfire Night.  And that`s serious, especially if, like us, you have a paranoid schizophrenic Golden Retriever with a sensitive nature and a penchant for undisturbed sleep.   It`s a silly thing, of course, `celebrating` a failed attempt to blow up Parliament hundreds of years ago.  Had the attempt been successful then perhaps it might have provided some legitimacy for the  `celebration.`  But it`s very British, of course, to organise a celebration for something so deeply flawed.

And then Christmas - the season of goodwill - when like lemmings on the cliff we all fall for the annual extravaganza of celebrating Santa`s birthday.  And the New Year won`t be much better - more fireworks, more canine cowering in the corner - and the whole silly season conducted in the darkest, coldest, most miserable time of the year.

And just when you think things couldn`t get any sillier, along comes the ultimate silliness that is the Turner Prize.  There are four nominees this year - a set of chairs draped with fur coats;  a set of TV monitors showing interviews with conspiracy theorists;  a showroom of household items;  and a bevy of six warbling opera singers.   Quite apart from the sainted JMW spinning in his grave at this prospect, it surely is no coincidence that admission to the Glasgow exhibition is free to anyone daft enough to be interested.

And people wonder why I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder.......... 

THE SECOND WORD WAS `OFF`

Strange how quickly things and moods can change.   Just two weeks ago we were relishing the glorious vistas of the south west coast path - towering Cornish cliffs, crashing waves, bright, brilliant sunshine.   Today is wet, dull and Halloween.

I suppose I resent the intrusion of Americana into the traditions and customs of this country and it seems to me that Halloween, far from being the All Hallows Day it once was, is now reduced to being yet another imported commercial device, this time to seduce parents into spending loads of dosh on rubbishy costumes and assorted tat so that their little ones don`t feel deprived.

Now in past years I employed a cunning plan to thwart the unwelcome knocks on my door.   In response to the demand of `trick or treat` I would simply ask if I could have the treat please, which seemed to have the desired effect of confusing and disarming my small visitors.   It was merely a delaying tactic, of course, as I invited them to take their pick from the assorted goodies I then offered them. 

This year, being concerned that this tactic may have been rumbled, I suggested I made a big cardboard notice comprising just two words and stuck it on our front door.   The second word was to have been `OFF.`   However, this idea was outlawed, so as I write I am on edge waiting for the dreaded knock on the door and the requirement to be nice.   To be fair, that shouldn`t be too difficult because, you see, I`m all heart really.  Honest.

HALLOWEEN GOODY PLOY WORKS A TREAT......

This could equally be called `One down - two to go` as Halloween has finally disappeared into the downcast autumn sunset. The next two occasions to see the back of are Bonfire Night and Christmas, with all the rampant commercialism and total disregard for their original meaning that surrounds them. But more on those twin threats to what remains of my sanity later. Let`s first have a word about Halloween.

As a boy, growing up in more austere times in a small community I don`t ever remember `doing` Halloween - Bonfire Night, yes and Christmas of course...but never Halloween. I suspect it has grown over the years as a result of the infiltration of American `culture` (I use the word advisedly) and the opportunity it presents for the chancers of this world to make a quick buck on the back of something by which children can put pressure on parents.

In chez Snopper, ever fearful of reprisals unless I conform with what the world laughingly expects of me, Mrs. Snopper purchased a very large bag of assorted sweets and chocolate bars and laid them out most invitingly in a basket, which `trick or treaters` were invited to dip into instead of keying my car or attaching stink bombs to our front door. Seemed like a good ploy.

We had only two visits last evening - my local reputation for raising grumpiness to an art form is clearly spreading. I have no proof but I suspect they were from the same gang coming around for another dip into Mrs. Snopper`s goody basket. I managed to confuse one gang who, when shouting `trick or treat` in my ear, were taken aback at my reply, "I`ll have the treat, please."

But it`s an ill wind that blows no good and the upshot is that the goody basket is still crammed with goodies, which we will enjoy munching our way through in the next few days. A satisfactory conclusion to a deeply unsatisfactory event.