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| Wharfedale on Boxing Day |
According to Google, the gap between Christmas and New Year is known as Twixtmas, its bots describing the term as an unofficial cosy period, sometimes referred to as Crimbolimbo. On reading the last word of that summary, I thought, that’s another lexical nugget I’ll consign to the dustbin labelled Drivel.
Which I suppose hints at a certain prejudice on my part. Because for all that I try to keep up with the times, I confess to struggling with the growth of AI and ChatGPT. As a writer, there’s probably an element of protective bias, but honestly, most of what it generates strikes me as more artificial than intelligent.
If that sounds a touch curmudgeonly, at least I’m not alone. The Oxford Dictionary’s 2024 word of the year was ‘Brain Rot’, referring to the mental drain from trivial content, while Merriam-Webster gave their award this year to ‘slop’, denoting the low-quality, often erroneous, content that floods the internet.
But thankfully, there’s more to this quiet period than mindless scrolling.
Indeed, the beaches and mountains near my house are busier at this time of year than almost any other. Family groups are particularly prominent, taking the air after the festivities. Often, there are three generations together, making me wonder how many of our truly lasting memories are founded on these seasonal strolls.
My own Christmas was spent in Yorkshire, where on Boxing Day nine of us hiked up Otley Chevin, stopping to gaze over Wharfedale and the distant Almscliffe crags. The year before we walked together at Ilkley Moor, the one previous on Mynydd Carningli in the Preselli Hills… I could easily go back a decade.
Can I recall what we ate and drank each of those years, or what presents we exchanged... not really.
The AI bots would probably make a fair stab; they might even suggest where we chose to take our exercise. But what they’ll never do, is capture how it felt to be in the landscape with our children and their partners, grown adults now but bonded just as strongly… by love, a shared attachment to each other, and a passion for the outdoors.
That, to me, is what makes Christmas truly magical.
The growth of AI frightens me. I suspect in a generation or so there will be very little that is 'real'.
ReplyDeleteHari OM
ReplyDelete...the teeth grind for me is that the Oxford 'word of the year' consists of two words... No, nothing bah humbug about me! I couldn't agree more about simply enjoying being, taking time to breath. Now, long, deep, inward, ready for 2026 - all the best to you and yours! YAM xx
That is a great reflection on festive season, family generated memories (and I like that line about AI being more artificial than intelligent- I hate AI wirh a passion. There seems to be a general dumbing down. Maybe it was always thus for a certain percentage of the population, but I hate how this slop devalues the genuine insight and creativity of thinkers and deciders.)
ReplyDeleteHappy New Year Mark. Good to read your thoughts on Christmas. Rachel
ReplyDeleteI heartily concur with your thoughts on the drivel of AI, which is simply plagiarism in a grand form.
ReplyDeleteChristmas memories are held in collective memory down through the years. We did something very different on the 27th - our family of 13 flew to Mexico for a week in the sun. It was a unique event, unlikely to be repeated, but many memories will linger.