It’s funny - I wrote yesterday’s blog on Monday evening but didn’t post it then because I was dashing out to the Staines Supper Club (which as regular readers will know is a monthly dinner date with my bestie half-way between our houses).
When I came to post it on Tuesday morning I gave it a quick proofread and realised in a swift 12 hours my mood had changed significantly. After an evening wrapped up outside a bar in the centre of Windsor (our usual haunt let us down on the outdoor seating) catching up, laughing, offloading and generally enjoying a mental cleanse, I no longer felt so down about Christmas.
I mean, I’m not wild about the whole thing, but I had definitely had a shift in spirits. Amazing what a couple of hours with someone new can do for you! But then I posted the blog anyway because a) I hadn’t written anything for ages and didn’t know when I’d next get a chance and b) it was still how I’d been feeling for a long time so felt kind of valid.
The response was very mixed. Ironically it was the people in my age and circumstances with whom it resonated, but it was the over 70s who seemed concerned for my mental well being. The ones who are vulnerable, who will be most alone at Christmas and who have had a far worse year than me, were the ones I worried the most. Which pulled me up sharp.
Firstly, sorry for being a misery. While I know a lot of people feel the same I probably didn't help anyone's mood.
Secondly, I like a good moan - as you can tell - but more often than not it’s for effect. I’m cynical and sarcastic and I’m quick to get impatient or frustrated, but I also approach bigger issues with an ‘it’ll be ok’ attitude. So from a macro perspective, the post yesterday was a bit OTT. I stand by it, but I’m sorry for alarming some and sounding ungrateful to others.
Christmas isn’t what we all want this year but you know what, it is what it is. Moaning won’t get me anywhere. So instead I have wracked my brains to come up with a handful of positives that we can all latch on to this year.
Come December 2021 no one can say ‘oh it only seems 5 minutes since last Christmas’ because technically this Christmas doesn’t count.
By the same token, calories also don’t count this Christmas. I asked Professor Chris Whitty and he said it’s definitely true. He can’t promise about no hangovers but he said you can’t have it every which way.
We do not have to suffer the crashing anticlimax that is 27th-30th December. No highs = no lows. We still won’t know what day it is but it won’t matter because we don’t have plans.
We will also be spared the 24 hours of mounting indecision about what to do on New Year’s Eve. We can all legitimately stay in and fall asleep on the sofa at 12.10am without being judged by our house guests.
We can really double down on the spousal bonding that we’ve been working so hard on this year.
That said, if our husbands don’t know what to buy us for Christmas after spending 9 months exclusively in our company, there really is no hope.
Because time means nothing anymore, in theory we could celebrate Christmas Day on the first day after schools break up so that the kids have a stack of new crap to amuse them, leaving us to do those jumbo Christmas quizzes in the paper in peace.
For as long as we have to wear masks in public we can continue to enjoy things like singing as we walk down the street, muttering an aggressive ‘my pleasure’ under our breath when people don’t say thank you without fear they might actually hear us, and unintentionally ignoring people we know until it’s a fraction too late because you didn’t recognise them by just their eyes.
Once Christmas is over Andy might be convinced to change our doorbell ring back so we are not serenaded by a tinny rendition of Feliz Navidad every time a parcel is delivered (which is approximately every 2.5 minutes at the moment). Though I will miss Xander’s involuntary jigging every time he hears it, and annoying everyone - including myself - by singing said tune under my breath almost continuously.
And don’t forget, if we want a distraction from Covid we can just think about Brexit and remember that that one’s for life, not just for 2020.
So there you have it. I am parking my bad mood and reminding myself there is much to be grateful for this Christmas. Not least that I have two weeks off work, no one I need to make small talk with, and a chance to test out Whitty’s calorie theory.
Oh, and Henry's currently making us all hats like this one he made at school which we can wear during our own Christmas dinner. Winner winner, turkey dinner.
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