Tag Archives: Christmas

Dec 02 2012
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My Ramblings

Stuff The Turkey

I don’t mean to be a grinch. I love Christmas. I adore the idea of roasting chestnuts, drinking mulled wine and wandering round Christmas craft markets munching on a German Bockwurst. So with this in mind, why oh why, with my last bit of energy, did I venture to a massive supermarket yesterday to pick up some bits and pieces to complete my Christmas shopping?

The Teenager was bored, so he tagged along. I left him admiring the huge 3D television and went off, basket in hand. The store was heaving. Trolleys piled high with crisps, cider, tinsel and frozen meals came at me from nowhere. Whole extended families swarmed around every display and crammed every aisle.

We don’t do Christmas in Britain, we just do sheer, unadulterated tacky commercialism. I used to live in Europe and they’ve got the right idea there. Christmas is a gentle time, a time for families to gather together, a time for reflection and handed-down traditions. Decorations are restrained and tasteful. Sweets, cakes and gingerbread houses are homemade. They don’t get paralytic on cheap alcohol and 3-for-2 party food.

Back in the supermarket, boxes of toys were teetering in trolleys. Ever noticed the cheaper the toy, the larger the box? Kids were screaming, stamping their feet, the adults looking on indulgently. ‘See what Santa brings, eh Britney?’ Waves of people marched with grim intent up and down the aisles, pushing past people, taking no prisoners.

There’s a panic surrounding Christmas in this country. The shops are closed for a day, yet we stock up as if we’re facing Armageddon. It’s easy to get caught up in it though. I found myself contemplating the special cheese display, weighing up which festive multi-buy pack to put in my basket. Hang on. If I don’t eat it normally, why would I suddenly buy it for Christmas? I also hate bread sauce and Christmas pudding, but I kind of feel I should get some, just in case.

I left the store feeling disheartened and slightly grubby. And what’s more depressing is that you just know the Valentine’s and Easter goods are waiting in the storeroom, ready to be put out on Boxing Day. Bah, humbug.

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Nov 26 2012
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Daily Life

Christmas All Wrapped Up

Well, possible relapse to one side, I am sadly excited to report I have Christmas all wrapped up.

This time last year, I was ‘lucky’. I was on my second course of steroids for yet another relapse and I was flying. I couldn’t sleep, I had extreme amounts of energy and I was absolutely buzzing. I would wake at 4am every morning and, possessed with a demon drive, I wouldn’t get to sleep til gone midnight. My house has never been so clean – all that energy had to go somewhere.

The lightbulbs were dusted, the skirting boards washed down and every single bit of cutlery cleaned to within an inch of its life. I put the tree up one morning at 5am. It was fully decorated and lit by 6am. I whizzed around supermarkets, wrote endless lists and had everything planned with military precision. Only problem was, once the steroids had left my system, I was a rag doll, limp and lifeless, with a fixed grin on my face.

This year, I have fulfilled my steroid quota, so no bonus energy for me. With that in mind, and with the spectre of a relapse still looming (is it or isn’t it, darn it??), I need to get Christmas sorted, just in case. So yesterday, I finished my present shopping, chose wrapping paper and tasteful ribbon and even rounded the trip off with a quick visit to Starbucks, The Teenager in tow. I had bribed him with a chocolate shortbread and one of those strawberry drinks with squirty cream on top.

This Christmas, the theme in my house is ‘Scandinavian Minimalism’, cleverly hiding the fact I have no energy to loop endless decorations onto a huge tree. I bought two small trees and decorated them simply, with lots of white lights and nothing else. I found a sculpture of a reindeer made from driftwood and will be wearing a Sarah Lund jumper for most of December. I will disguise my tiredness with Nordic gloominess and a contemplative demeanor. Meatballs and cloudberry juice will be served, along with almond biscuits and salted liquorice.

One thought keeps recurring though. Can I save up my steroid quota next year and use them at Christmas? Mandatory steroids for all those with MS! A new campaign? Right, where’s the Akavit? God Jul!

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Nov 21 2012
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Work and Studying

The Christmas Work Party…For One

A delicious thought struck me the other day. This year, for the first time in well over a decade, I will not be going to a Christmas work party. Technically I am still employed until the end of December, but I’m guessing I’d be as welcome as a new MS  lesion on an MRI scan.

This means I won’t spend days (weeks) agonizing over my party outfit, striking the right balance between chic and trashy. I won’t need to find a ‘jolly’ pair of flashing Christmas tree earrings, or drape tinsel round my neck and I won’t need to get involved in a Secret Santa present-swap, so no sneaky trip to Poundland then (I highly recommend the candles and picture frames – wrapped in expensive paper, who’d know?).

Most of the work parties in recent years have been excruciating exercises in ‘office bonhomie’. The boss is generally dressed down in dodgy ‘cool’ clothes, they’ve put twenty quid behind the bar and we all sit there with a limp cracker and a single party popper. Conversation stumbles along until enough cheap alcohol is consumed and it’s at this point that all hell usually lets loose.

Old resentments spring up, snarky comments are traded and the boss just sits there, eyes glazed,  trying to get us all to tell rude jokes. Inevitably, one or more of the women will rush to the loo, crying, followed by a gaggle of other women, eager to be the first with the gossip. With Christmas carols playing on a loop in the background, one or two will attempt to grab random drunken men for a dance and the smokers will decamp with their drinks to the back terrace and remain there the rest of the evening.

Am I sad then, to be missing out on all this fun? Er, no. It’s a relief. So I have decided to throw my own party for one. I’ll go to Waitrose for a nice selection of party nibbles, pour some Cava, put Cliff Richard’s Christmas CD on and have a fabulous time. There’ll be no need to dress up, so I’ll have a ‘pyjama party’ dress code. There’ll be no embarrassing photographs being emailed round the following morning unless the cat has developed opposable thumbs and there will be a sense of relief not to go to the office the next day only to be met with raised eyebrows.

So, to all of you who have an office party to go to, good luck and raise a glass to me…I’ll be thinking of you.

 

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