Can I be up front and tell you that I’m not really much of a Christmas person? Don’t be shocked, I’m not like a total stinky old Grinchy Christmas Humbug. I won’t be petitioning for a Referendum on whether we should be in or out on the Celebrating Christmas front. I try to approach it with a general air of enthusiasm and make it really special for the kids, but I can’t seem to get excited about Secret Santa, Fenwicks Window, adverts that make you cry or trying to get on The Polar Express. To me Christmas is manic shopping crushes, endless lists, keeping track of what everyone is getting, knowing much of it will be returned, rejected unworn or soon discarded, watching some folk out-Joy each other while others feel excruciatingly empty loneliness. The house gradually and inevitably closes in on us as presents pile up, blocking doorways/escape routes. On the plus side there’s Amaretto and enormous amounts and varieties of cheese, which usually gets me through.
But I do think that, for the first time, this year I came at it like a boss. I totally had it Covid. I mean, covered. Working from home was a huge help, as I could be in when gifts ordered online arrived and squirrel them away. No dashing back and forth to the post Office Depot. I tried to source goods from local suppliers and businesses with decent reputations for fair treatment of employees which felt better than ordering everything from a certain global online retailer. Everything was wrapped and hidden or delivered with low-to-medium stress, there were no Christmas parties to try and squeeze in. No pantos, Christmas markets or Nativities to attend. It was almost relaxed - I even found time to hem and hang new curtains, home-colour my hair and watched things on tv that I’d seen scheduled in the Radio Times instead of the usual expletives of regret as I discover on the 3rd Jan everything I’ve missed.
I suspect I might be in the minority on the not-loving-Christmas front but you never know, there may be many more like me - I most certainly am the odd one out in our immediate family, all four kids and my husband really truly believe it’s the Most Wonderful Time of the year. They love the rituals, the laying out of Santa’s mince pie and drink, the warmed-through Turkey and stuffing sandwich on Christmas Day evening, the sprouts you push around your plate under cover of The Queen’s speech. We don’t do matching pyjamas thankfully, I’m not sure I could bear it. This year there was a panicked look in my husband’s eyes as we sat down to eat. He had ordered a three-tray food warmer gadget this year so people could put what they wanted on their plates rather than him dishing up and trying to remember who has mash, who doesn’t do carrots, who won’t entertain turnip. Everything was going to plan -we had Turkey, stuffing, beef, gammon, the roasties were crisp and the gravy deeply Christmas-like. “I forgot the pigs in blankets!!!” He cried out, like a tourist who touches down in a foreign country and realises they left their favourite sunglasses on the sideboard at home. Maybe it’s a reflection of how adaptable he’s had to be this year, like a lot of people, after being made redundant through Covid and retraining as a remote people-manager, missing out on a planned trip to Vegas to see his favourite singer (making do with a few balloons and a life size cardboard cutout of said singer for the house) but the look of panic at the missing sausages was quickly replaced with a shrug and an “oh, well”. We had them for Boxing Day breakfast instead while the traditional turkey bhuna bubbled away on the cooker. It set us up nicely for a new Christmas tradition this year - the Nerf Gun Battle which I have to admit was pretty epic. It came hot on the heals of a testy game of Monopoly that came to an abrupt end with dodgy side-hustles and accusations of “ganging up” on certain property magnates. My usually gentle, sensitive and artistic nine year old transformed into a Son of Rambow style two-gun-toting warrior, bullets flew hither and thither and the battle raged relentlessly for a good twenty minutes. I’m no psychologist but this release of tension and display of unabashed savagery was the perfect outlet and antidote to 2020’s relentless restrictions and misery. It summed Christmas and the year up very nicely.
Comments