Christmas Passed

What happened to Christmas? The last thing I remember it was Thanksgiving, and now I’m eating Boxing Day leftovers and staring Hogmanay in the face. I do recall a few, fleeting, flashes of light a while back; was that it?

Gosh, but didn’t time fly this year? It’s strange; usually I am so sick of being pummelled by sappy carols, crappy ‘Christmas Specials’ TV and seizure-inducing light displays that I can’t wait to put the holidays behind me. But this year, I only heard Slade three times (I counted) and ended up voluntarily subjecting myself to a dose of holiday television viewing because it just didn't seem like Christmas without watching some really rubbish telly (The Top of the Pops Christmas Review, re-runs of Dad's Army, Ken Dodd's Christmas Special, The Most Shocking Celebrity Moments, you know, crap like that).

For all we complain about it (c'mon, you know you did), Christmas, and all the peripheral festivities, serves a very important function: it distracts us from the climate. This, actually, was its original purpose back when it was a pagan celebration, set at the time the time of year when the days were darkest and gloomiest and the weather sucked; what better to do than throw a party? So I'm disappointed at how quickly the days are speeding by. Once January arrives and the fallout from the New Year's Eve parties is cleaned up, it's simply winter, and the only thing you can do about it is complain about the weather and look forward to spring.

The other problem is, unless there are small children involved, Christmas loses some of it's magic. There's nothing like watching a three-year-old squealing with glee while tearing the wrapping off of a plastic fire engine that cost you all of $5, and then happily playing with the box until mid-February. These days, my sons e-mail me their Christmas list, I buy it all on line and have it mailed directly to their home. Call me an old Scrooge but I don't get quite the same satisfaction out of that.

On the other hand, it's no easier for them, or anyone else for that matter, to buy for me. Whenever I'm asked what I want for Christmas, I tell the unvarnished truth: "I'm an adult, I have a credit card—for me, every day is Christmas." This is why there is an upsurge in sales of mood clocks, chocolate fountains, and Oxfam goats this time of year—what else can you get for people who already have everything and, if they don't, can jolly well go out and buy it themselves? So you have to resort to things no sane person would ever voluntarily purchase, or you and the wife decide to buy a new bookcase and agree to call it a mutual Christmas gift.

As I said, the magic diminishes somewhat.

But that shouldn't put us off Christmas. Indeed, it can make it that much more challenging to think up and hunt down just the right gift. If, after your 17th birthday, the Joy of Giving hasn't blossomed in your bosom, Christmas is going to be something of a disappointment, but for most of us, that is what keeps Christmas Christmas. And, although I can't claim to have made anyone squeal with glee for some time, I do get a certain amount of satisfaction from giving a gift I know will be appreciated – like a nice new frying pan, or a steam iron with dual-spray action. (I kid, of course, as evidenced by the fact that I am sitting upright and in possession of all my digits. Even though my father once bought my mother a cookie jar for Christmas – what was he thinking?!? – that particular gene has not been passed my way and I am fully aware that any item which regards the kitchen as its natural habitat is off limits in the gift arena.)

With Christmas now rapidly receding into the past (and let's face it, by the time you read this, it's probably 2008 and you're already back at work wondering where your next day off is coming from) it's time to pack away the bounty of gifts and move on. I hope Santa was good to you. As for myself: thanks to a post I did last summer wherein I noted the dearth of pencil sharpeners on this island, friends, family and fans sent me enough pencil sharpeners to open my own specialty shop.

Have I mentioned that I haven’t seen any of those £50 notes I keep hearing about?