Have I ruined Christmas? That one can't show a bit of determination and character. For almost fourteen days I have been strong-willed and steadfast, but today it went completely wrong. I brewed myself a cup of tea. Twinings Earl Grey with bergamot oil. Probably named after that Grey who throws dozens of shadows and lingers in both the east and west and probably in between as well. The one they write books and make films about.
The corrupting drink, moreover sweetened with three saccharin tablets. Surely an unhealthy and depraved chemical that breaks down free will and makes us victims of unruly desires and horrors. With this chalice of sin, along with two slices of store-bought bread spread with omega-3 oil-rich light margarine and spreadable bacon cheese, I went so innocently to the kitchen table to consume enough energy to survive the evening and night without it having any diminishing effect on the poise one needs to achieve the necessary respect in society.
And while I sit there enjoying the evening’s daily bread, I become aware of a printed matter lying open on the kitchen table, purchased 14 days ago and set aside for spiritual nourishment during Christmas. And now, apparently, used by someone who has little respect for traditions and customs and what may be socially and ethically acceptable in relation to calendar and culture. Despite discipline and common sense, my gaze is drawn there, though I would rather not look. On one of my shoulders, the left one, a small red-clad figure suddenly appears with a sharp three-pronged pitchfork. It prods at me to make me turn my gaze. I try to resist. In such situations, it is expected that a corresponding white-clad, winged figure will appear on the other shoulder, and that these will fight each other, after which the white one should prevail and guide me to the right path. The white one does not appear! He does not come!
It's really not that unexpected, as I have always been convinced that I myself have a better understanding of the connections between things than a warlike shepherd people from the Middle East can come up with. In short, I have never been a believer. So in the absence of faith, the winged one does not show up. Now, the one dressed in red shouldn’t be present either, since I don’t believe in him either.
But he is there nonetheless, and slowly – actually not that slowly – quite quickly – my resistance breaks down and I give in to the temptations. I take the illustrated, non-colored printed matter and place it in front of me, turn to the first page, and begin to read. Then it's done. There is no turning back. The material is interesting, captivating, and engrossing. While I slowly munch my allotted evening ration of today's bread, I continue to read. The bread runs out, and I barely manage to move my hand away so that I don't eat it as well. Then I sit there and read while digesting, until the very last page is read and absorbed. Three illustrated comics and a short story.

This is how it came about that I ruined the Yule in advance, long before it had actually begun
This year's Yule booklet with Jens von Bustenskjold has been read and is over. How will this go? Have I completely ruined the Yule?