This is a posed and cheesy picture of husband and I, last Christmas, our first Christmas as a married couple. The lead up to Christmas was fantastic, I planned a meal for my friends, I decorated the house, I was making the hampers and spending a fortune. The day itself, well it is never as good as the anticipation. Husband was only around for the morning, after dinner he left, I had Eastenders to keep me occupied and depressed and it soon felt like a normal day.
Christmas as a child is a magical experience. The excruciating waiting and waiting, the threats of Father Christmas not coming to try and make us behave actually having some effect, the writing of present lists (receiving, not giving!), the post box at school where you posted your cards, teachers being nice, the carols and then on Christmas morning, when you kicked the end of your bed and felt the weight of your stocking, feeling wide awake despite it being 5am, the excitement almost exploding in your chest.
Years later, family fractures soon made Christmas something to dread rather than enjoy. Arguments in those early years of separation over who was spending Christmas where, and resentments coming to head destroyed any festive spirit I had. Me and Christmas fell out. Big Time.
Years later, things have settled now but there is always that moment where you have to tell one parent you're not spending Christmas with them. I thought getting married would put a halt to that but with husband away this year, I am having to choose once again. I am getting some pressure from one party (you know who you are!) and it's making those old feelings of guilt resurface.
I was a Scrooge for a long time but I suppose it was my husband that reignited my joie de vie for the festive season. I am not really into that materialistic crap that is forced down our throats as early as September, instead I find the old magic of Christmas in moments, tastes and smells.
Smells: Mulled wine, Mince Pies, the bird roasting packed with sage and sausage meat.
Sights: Oxford Covered Market, very Dickensian, steam billowing from the roasted chestnut stand as cold Christmas shoppers, looking exhausted pass by. The bright pinks, blues and golds of the Quality Street wrappers as you open the tin for the first time.
Sounds: The popping of Champagne corks and the clinking of glasses, the snap of a wish-bone, the jingle of bells and the groan of someone refusing another turkey sandwich.
Christmas is all of those things and more. I am disgusted by the amount of money that is thrown away when people have completely lost the meaning of Christmas. I am not religious so Christmas, to me, should be about seeing friends and family and either having a good piss-up and eating a feast, or just enjoying their company that you miss the rest of the year. So honestly, when I say, do not buy me a Christmas present, I mean it. Instead, open a bottle of something, preferably with bubbles, we'll pull a few crackers, and in our cheap paper hats I will do the magic trick and you can tell my fortune with that perceptive red fish.
Oh and for the record, I like sprouts.
No comments:
Post a Comment