I touched upon the fate of Kirsty MacColl in a previous post, relatively recently, but the time of year has caught up with me and, really, I see no other song fitting and deserving to be Song Of The Week for Christmas - especially since everybody I know will listen to that Bowie & Crosby song anyway.
The Holidays aren't always a joyous occasion; as a matter of fact, when you're past the age of 12, more often than not, perhaps as a contrast to what they should represent, some mountain-sized pile of shit makes its way on your doorway, usually on fire.
That's where this song comes in, reminding you that, for better of for worse, someone's there for you; maybe not the person you'd rather have, maybe not maybe someone you're tired of, but still someone who gets you, knows you, your intricacies and idiosyncrasies, someone to make the pain seem bearable.
Because after all is said and done, really, the most important thing in life - considering you never when your last breath will take place - is having someone to slow dance with at the end of the night.
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