I adore Christmas.
I love the anticipation, the buying of gifts, the muddlesome sellotape, the sparkling tree lights, the over-indulgence, the laughing at people who transform their homes into miniature light festivals, the singing of Carols, the silly shows on the tellybox, the pulling of crackers, the looks on the faces of children, the joy of knowing that people love and care for me, being able to get drunk and fall over and there being a reason for it, the joy of knowing that people know that I love and care for them, the ridiculous hat I can wear, the smiles on the faces of strangers, the fact that I can act like a child and stamp my feet and demand to open my presents right now, the way that old friends come out of the woodwork … Pure bliss.
I have ironed [for those of you who know how much I detest ironing you’ll be pleased to hear that I’m getting better and starting to enjoy it … hmmm, madness I know], emptied the dishwasher, vacuumed, noticed some cobwebs in the bedroom [but I shall endeavour to deal with those after Christmas since only myself and The Blokey actually go in our bedroom], gone all goose-pimply following a nasty dream, finished my romantic comedy easy-reading book [and gosh, it put me in a frivolous mood], dusted, decided that the kitchen is swamped with alcohol which we’ll probably still be drinking next Christmas, watched Sabrina, cleaned around the alcohol, pondered an early alcoholic drink and then realised that wasn’t a good idea as The Future MiL will soon be here with Christmas cheer [and some steaks and another present from The Blokey’s Little Brother] – and besides, it’s not even mid-day yet … Oh, and I managed to fit a shower, the intensive conditioning of hair and the shaving of various body parts into the morning as well. And I’ve only been up two hours … busy, busy, busy.
There are two traditional aspects that I shall miss this Christmas. As a tiddler, and then upon returning home as an adult, we went to sing Christmas Carols near the village hall on Christmas Eve. The Salvation Army band plays, money is collected, and lots of villagers get together and recognise the reason why the Christ is in Christmas. Then a Chinese and alcohol follows. Also, for the last few years I’ve been going to the local Methodist Church [that Mumsy attends regularly] on Christmas morning. It’s the only time I go to church and part of the attraction is inquisitiveness as old childhood friends also go with their parents and I get to hug the men who were like my surrogate daddies when I was little.
One day I’ll be able to start my own family traditions with my own little family – touch wood and fingers crossed and all that malarkey.
And I still get the Chinese and lashings of alcohol this evening so all’s fair in Christmas Spirit.
And there’s really only one thing left for me to say …
… and here’s hoping that he brings Father Christmas to your roof …
To everybody who reads my Xanga, participates in my life, leaves me uplifting comments, sends me cheery mails [and gifts!], or just simply stalks me … have a very merry and superb Christmas. And if you don’t celebrate Christmas then just have a very groovy day.
You’re all piggin’ wonderful and deserve it muchly … *grins in vomit-inducing way*
please God bless Rudolph and Father Christmas as they bring presents to my door xxx Elsabeth