In part 2 of my festive special, I look at the madness this time of year seems to inspire in one and all, and some of the things I don’t like.
They say as you get older, Christmas – much like birthdays – don’t mean the same as before. It’s just another way to mark the passing of time – another year gone, and what have you done with your life? I love Christmas, but I must admit, in the past couple of years, I have felt a slight panic with it. Part of that is why I try to make the most of this time of year.
I try not to be a negative person, but I try to be relatively realistic about things. And that includes not turning a blind eye to the problems I have with Christmas:
The Dreaded Christmas Shop
I always remember coming back from uni and going to the big Morrisons in Malton (since the Co-op in Pickering, where we lived, in the days of pre-Lidl, was insufficient for the task at hand) and being horrified. We, like the rest of the county it seemed, would decide to do the big shop on the 23rd or even Christmas Eve in a whirlwind of panic. The shops are shut on Christmas Day! What if we run out of milk, bread, cranberries, Brussels sprouts, alcohol, lemonade, toilet roll, foil, etc., etc. The supermarket bosses must be sitting up in their offices rubbing their hands together. I swear to you now, every single person – and their woe-betide partner in crime – had one of the big trolleys (you know which I mean, the really deep ones that you have to climb into to get stuff out of at the checkout, legs flailing in the air, in danger of kicking little old ladies) and it was packed to overflowing with every piece of inconsequential unnecessary mass-produced rubbish, all because the shop would be shut for one day and Auntie Sandra would do her nut if you don’t have her gin and slimline tonic.
I used to have borderline panic attacks when stood in the middle of the pigs in blankets. Something very wild comes over people at this time of year and more fool you if you stand in their way.
Since I am now chief shopper in our household and have been for two years now, I have a lot of first hand experience in the world of the supermarket. Since the first day on the advent calendar was opened, the furious panic of Christmas has set in. There are twice as many shoppers on the Morrisons floor, the shelves are running out of bread, and cream, and they long since sold out of mixed fruit. Everywhere is a riot of colour and bargains and must-have items. It makes you sick.
As we are doing Christmas this year, I might go down one of two routes: buy as much as I can from proper independent shops, the butcher’s and the greengrocer’s (my chicken is already on order with our local butcher), or else, if I run out of time (likely), go to the Lidl and buy in bulk/freeze in advance.
I am a sufferer of chronic guilt. It courses through my veins in place of blood. I’m guilty of so many things – not keeping my house clean, not cutting my grass enough, not pursuing my dreams, not succeeding at work. This time of year is the worst. It must be down to the lack of sunlight, the hours kept inside in the dark, with only my own thoughts for company. The social battle of present-giving is a main player here. Did I spend enough on person x? Oh no! So-and-so posted me a Christmas card, who I’ve only spoken to once in July, and now I have to find a spare one for them. Should I attend this village lights switch on? Nope, too late. What about choir singing? Nope, can’t get back in time from work.
One Christmas, when we had moved to the farm and I still lived at home, Mum was begrudgingly prepping for the big dinner when she realised a critical error – we’d run out of plain flour for the Yorkshires. This is a catastrophe. So Dad, Bilbo and I got wrapped up and we marched down to Grandad’s house to raid his cupboards for a pack of flour two years past its sell-by date.
There was nothing wrong with those puddings!
Moral of the story is – check your cupboards, and get a grip. It’s only one day, as I’m repeatedly told.
The days are short and dark, the nights are long and darker still, it’s cold out and it keeps trying to snow. Already we’ve had two gos at snow in the past two weeks, which is more than we’ve had in a long while. I’m driving to and from work in darkness and it’s really no fun. Then when I get home all I want to do is curl up and go to bed – the last thing I want to do is mess about with chores, cooking tea, and I even don’t have energy to do any writing (probably why I’m doing this in the morning).
The lack of sunlight has a lot to do with low mood. I feel so unproductive in winter. Christmas cards have yet to be written, presents – the few that I’ve bought – aren’t anywhere near to being wrapped. It’s tiring, and I totally get why people jet off in search of summer sun.