So, it’s that time of year again. You know, the most wonderful one. With kids jingle belling, and much mistletoeing, and other made-up words we’re apparently allowed to use just because it’s CHRISTMAS. Yes, that’s right. I upper-cased it. It’s CHRISTMAS.
It’s no good trying to resist it. CHRISTMAS is bloody everywhere. I’m writing this at my Mum’s dining-table, and there are 3 ridiculous signs that it’s CHRISTMAS all within my current line of sight:
1. There is a Yankee candle on the coffee table that is RED APPLE WREATH flavoured. What the hell is an apple wreath? Why (never mind how) would I go about attaching red apples to wreaths? Said candle also proclaims to be ‘with authentic Yankee fragrance’. Whatever that means.
2. On the sideboard I can see the weird metal thing I won in my cracker on Christmas Day. I can only assume it’s some kind of heavy-duty paperclip. Or maybe a bookmark. Either way, it’s ridiculous.
3. Perhaps the most ridiculous thing of all is sitting right in front of me. It’s a new addition to my parents’ array of Christmas decorations, a jaunty little silver wire tree that sits on the table. Now most of their decorations are pretty much as old as I am and therefore have history and memories attached - our Snoopy and Woodstock bauble things, for example. Amazing.
So this new tree is a bit of interloper. Which is perhaps why I somewhat irrationally, TOTALLY HATE IT. It’s annoying and too modern and seems to be somehow spring-mounted so that with every letter I type it jauntily bounces about. See, annoying. But I can’t quite bring myself to move it (or bin it). That would label me as the Scrooge character in our little war. And I’m not having that.
So anyway, I hope you’re all having a fabulous Christmas, with your very own personally perfect balance of eggnog, brandy sauce, bread sauce, cranberry sauce, sherry and any other festive liquids you may require.
And don’t worry if it’s not all going perfectly. Christmas can be tough. And sometimes things go wrong.
I remember the year the sprouts got mislaid, so that my Dad had to drive round the whole of Huddersfield on Christmas morning attempting to locate some. And god bless the cornershop newsagent in Brighouse who was a) open and b) inexplicably sold sprouts.
Or the year the turkey somehow got put in the oven upside-down. At one point, my Dad thought he was carving some kind of 5-legged poultry mutant. I think that one will forever remain a bit of a mystery.
So, in the interests of CHRISTMAS spirit and spreading festive cheer, here are 3 stories to cheer you up if your goodwill starts to unravel. They are all true traditions provided by my actual friends. You know who you are. Thank you for sharing. You’ve all brightened my life with your festive tales.
1. Friend 1 is now 30. She is a rational mild-mannered adult with a very important responsible job. And yet she still fights her older sister and father to get through the living-room door on Christmas morning in order to be the first to reach the presents. And I don’t mean they playfully bat each other out of the way. I mean they have an actual violent battle using the cardboard tubes from rolls of wrapping-paper. Sadly, she didn’t win this year. I have yet to find out who was successful in beating their relatives into submission.
2. Leaving a sherry and a mince pie out for Santa, and a carrot for Rudolph, is a longstanding tradition for many families. I was amused this year to see via my friends on Facebook that somewhere in north Wales, Rudolph got a neatly-peeled carrot, and in Kent he was the recipient of a little pile of pre-chopped Marks and Spencer carrot batons. This would horrify Friend 2, who is much more serious about reindeer refreshments. She and her brother used to leave a bucket of water and a bale of hay in the garden. What good is one measly carrot? And this is my favourite part… after opening their presents, they had to go outside and shout up into the skies, ‘THANK YOU SANTA’. How their parents and all their neighbours must have laughed.
3. This one is possibly my favourite. Friend 3 spent Christmas a few years ago with her sister’s family. Friend 3 is very normal and lovely. And so it’s not all that surprising that she’s not hugely close to her sister, who is a bit mad and weird and has some funny ideas. Oh, and she’s extremely religious. But Friend 3 went to visit, determined to embrace the funny ideas. Upon sitting down to their Christmas Dinner, she was more than a little surprised and baffled when the family started to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. Dammit, she thought. It’s my niece or nephew’s birthday, and I’ve somehow forgotten, and it’s awful, and I feel terrible. Confused, Friend 3 nevertheless politely joined in singing, and was relieved and thoroughly entertained to hear them all finish the song, with ‘Happy Birthday dear Jesus, Happy Birthday to You!’ Awesome.
Happy CHRISTMAS everyone!
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