The C word...
...did somebody mention Christmas?
Sssshhhhh
A few weeks ago I found myself in the kitchen, singing (for some inexplicable reason) ‘I don’t want a lot for Christmas...there is just one thing I need...’, (And I...)
Well you know how it goes.
My eldest daughter came downstairs slightly bemused, and showed me a TikTok that normally comes out around November every year: ‘Mariah is Defrosting’. It has a picture of Mariah Carey inside a huge ice-block which has a tiny crack in the corner. The crack grows day by day, the nearer it is to December. I presume that around mid-December said ice-block shatters and the warble is released. Apparently, frozen Mariah appeared on her TikTok in August this year due to global warming. We started laughing and talking about Christmas, and how much we love it, and before we knew it, Alexa was playing full on Mariah and we were dancing around the kitchen singing ‘ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOOOOOUUUUUUUUU’! at the top of our voices.
It was 30 degrees outside.
We then furtively looked around to make sure no one had walked past the house, shut Alexa down, put some sun cream on and pretended it had never happened.
Fast forward a couple of weeks, and I have just arrived back from a juice retreat in Turkey (more on that soon), returning from the blazing hot sun to a distinctly autumnal feel in the UK. I might even have snuck the heating on for a few hours yesterday. The thing I noticed the most however, having been away for just a week, was the smell in the air. It wasn’t the smell of summer rain, or of a soggy August weighted with the disappointment of constrained teenagers and cancelled barbecues, it was all the glorious cliches of late September: Conkers and falling leaves, wisps of woodsmoke, the promise of pumpkins, cosy evenings and fireworks. Scents of a childhood remembered, blended with adult anticipation of what comes next.
My youngest daughter started chatting yesterday about how much she loves Christmas, how she can’t wait to see the family that are visiting, (there might have been mention of presents), and that she had just seen some Christmas crackers for sale in Sainsbury’s.
[sound of stereo needle scratching across vinyl]
What?!?! Christmas crackers already??? Now hold on a minute.
Love or loathe
Societally, our reactions to Christmas vary wildly: from those that can’t stand it (who we can lazily categorise as ‘humbugs’ without bothering to explore what it means for them), those that put their trees up in August and break the national grid with their light displays the minutes the clocks change, and those that are casually disinterested or not impacted - perhaps they work through Christmas, or it holds no cultural significance...
Many people tolerate it or celebrate it, but NOT in September!!
I would say we, as a family, do fall in the ‘love Christmas’ camp, but in a measured way. Nothing happens before December (save perhaps the buying of the odd event ticket). ‘Christmas Tree’ weekend is always the first weekend of December, and it is one of our favourite weekends of the year.
We blow the dust off Frank Sinatra’s Jingle Bells, pour a sherry, and randomly hurl decorations at an oversized tree, knowing we won’t be featuring in a John Lewis catalogue any time soon. It is a very special day for the four of us as a family (and nana) - although last year my daughter’s new boyfriend was also there - we must have sensed he was a good egg, he’s still around a year later.
Having been a shift worker for several years (and my husband still is), there was a period of 11 years where we did not get to spend Christmas mornings together as our family unit. Whether one of us was returning from a night shift, working an early morning, being on call the entire day... the years where we missed it have made the times we manage to spend together ever more meaningful.
Trivial pursuits
It is not straightforward though. For anyone who is bereaved, or has any number of other difficult family situations, Christmas brings complexities. For me, Christmas evenings as a teenager and into young adulthood were always spent with my brother Brian and his best friend Alan. After our day of glorious overindulgence at home with our sister, mum, dad and dog - complete with post-dinner snoozing to the backdrop of Disney films and several rounds of Trivial Pursuit (back in the days when the board was still blue and the questions were good) - Brian and I would head over to Alan’s house in the evening.
There, a whole second act would unfold with endless tea, turkey sandwiches and games into the early hours with Alan’s hilarious mum and dad and his two brilliant and glorious sisters. Now Alan and his dad, Ray, are buried just across the way from Brian and my dad, under the shade of the same tree. Just the two pairs of sisters and two mums remain.
Our beloved dad died on 03 December, the day before my sister’s birthday. Alan and Brian had their birthdays on 06 and 10 December respectively. It has become a confusing time of year. Brian only met my eldest daughter for 3 precious months of her life and held her so tightly that Christmas. He never met my youngest, although she embodies him.
Dad’s anniversary often falls on ‘Christmas tree’ weekend, so as we decorate our ridiculous tree, we also visit the cemetery with a mini tree and baubles to place on the grave where Dad and Brian are buried together, stopping to chat to Alan and Ray whilst we’re there. It’s peaceful, beautiful, heart achingly painful, and all part of mix of that time of year.
I like that the thought of Christmas brings up these particular memories, even though they reside in my mind every single day.
I’m not SAD
I’m fortunate in that I like winter evenings. I love swimming in ice cold water on frosty mornings, seeing my breath in the air, coming home to warm up. I feel a strange comfort as the nights fold in - putting the fire on, pulling on fluffy socks and jumpers, making hot drinks and wrapping in blankets. I am not particularly impacted by the lack of daylight as I find such joy around Christmas (although by March I am desperate for the change).
I have friends that suffer quite badly with S.A.D. and this can make the desperately short days and long evenings a huge challenge - I wonder whether Christmas compounds this for them or provides a beacon of hope?
As I type this the sun is shining again, September is doing its thing and still ripening my tomatoes whilst dropping apocalyptic emails into my inbox about the availability of ‘Ocado Christmas slots’ (horror face emoji as I panic fill my basket with sprouts and Champagne just to keep the slot). I can drink my tea outside with the sun on my face and close my eyes and be in Narnia with a cup of liquid Turkish Delight. I nurture this time of seasonal change in my heart, looking both backwards and forwards as well as holding the now.
For whatever the forthcoming change in seasons means for you, I hope it lands with you gently. In the meantime I will put on my sunglasses, inhale the remains of summer, and firmly leave Mariah in the freezer...
Christmas Tree weekend is (but)10 weeks away.
What does the thought of Christmas feel like for you?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Love & lemons 💕🍋
Em x
Wonderful words yet again Emma - thank you. And again, it’s like parts of my brain and thoughts have come out of your mouth - especially Christmas! Same, thoughts, same feelings - and we have a ‘grandpa curry day’ every year with my children and grandchildren, to celebrate my darling papa’s memory. I have his ashes, so they come out too to join in - much to the distaste of my husband! 😘🤗