I love the festive season and everything that comes with it. Joyful faces, hilarious panics to get everything you need when in reality the only thing you cannot forget is the turkey, the parties, the food…even the music doesn’t get on my nerves too much. Then, each year when it’s all over, that one day, I think to myself – really?
I was wandering around Waitrose the day after Boxing Day and laughed at how quiet and empty it was compared to Christmas Eve. The shelves full of reductions because they’ve obviously panic-ordered too. The calmness that filled the shop and how much time has passed – two days? I just wanted a pan au chocolat and some wine and was in and out in a flash, stress free. The total opposite scenario to Christmas Eve.
It’s laughable how much hype is involved for just one day. All the preparations and anxieties to be over in 24 hours. Not even 24 hours, more like 12 at a push because everyone is in a food coma by 7pm, let’s be honest. We all picture the most magical day, happy families, joyful greetings in the pub before we leave, the snowy white outdoors when actually it’s the total opposite. Every family has their dramas. Auntie Sal has never liked Grandad and Tony hates Barbara’s children. Dave always buys the same rubbish presents and get ready for pretend smiles when you all greet Uncle knob-head!
I’m no bah-humbug but it’s always the same. At the pub on Christmas Eve when talking with everybody, the same old conversation that go something like: “what are you doing for Christmas? Staying home?” T
here’s guaranteed to be one family unhappy with their plans. One family member moaning about another. False niceties between two people who you know hate each other but ‘because it’s Christmas’ they’ve got to share joy and glee and kindness. I sound awful, I’m just painting a true image.
I had a lovely Christmas this year but it wasn’t shy of arguments. I thought to myself when walking through the village with my sister at half past ten on Christmas night (yes we had skipped the food coma entirely) how it was all over for another year and that’s such a strange feeling. It’s like New Year’s Eve, another one where whatever mood you are in and however you feel, you have to be ecstatic and having a great time. Some days I want to lay on the sofa watching crap or reading my book and speak to nobody. Some nights I can’t be bothered to go out as I’m just not in the mood. No real reasons just because, but these two occasions in particular don’t allow for this. Another one of societies weird features.
Then, when it’s all over you get the questions “did you have a nice time” and regardless you have to answer that it was lovely. Nobody wants to hear about the hiccups and hating of false encounters and tiredness and not feeling 100% in good health.
This post isn’t intended to demolish everything good about Christmas as I do love it really, I’m just merely expressing how fake the whole shabbang can be. However, as long as you know you’re faking it and I know I’m faking it, we’ll do it again next year…and the next!