It’s that time of year again, one week until Christmas. The most magical sodding time of the year.
Sunday 29th November and it had already started, one over enthusiastic wise crack uploads a picture of their perfect dilapidated Christmas scene and the whole off facebook starts having a tree-off.
The ‘most wonderful time of the year’ can be remarkably shit when you’re miserable. I can see it already, engagements, mulberry handbags, tacky Pandora charms and hash tags of lucky girl!
The most lucky girl I’ll be this year is if I manage to wake up on Christmas day hangover free without managing to turn festivities into the East Enders Christmas special.
Some years I’ve been known to actively wrap presents up as last minute as ten minutes before Christmas lunch- I kid myself that it’s to make the day ‘ EXTRA MAGICAL’ but it’s actually just because I’m an awful human being.
Is it possible to grow out of Christmas?
Sod Mariah, see ya later Cliff, Steven go shake somewhere else- I’m listening to Blink 182 like the angsty khol pencilled teen who can’t be arsed to be pleasant and intends to spend most of Boxing Day with their earphones plugged in listening to the very concise list of CDs of the grunge/metal/pop punk genre that had been handed over to their family in mid November.
It’s weird not having CDs for Christmas anymore. Do you remember the time before you tube? The excitement of pulling the plastic casing off and leafing through the inlay of the latest Sum41 album. Hours spent browsing in Virgin megastores and the pee inducing excitement of a NuMetal album that was never going to do very well in tesco being reduced to £5.99. I used to buy some CDs twice just because they had limited edition extras- fuck knows what i’m going to do with three copies of HIM’s greatest hits 😉
But that Christmas magic- when you’re too old for santa clause .and to tragic to wear reindeer patterned jumpers with another, where is it?
‘I believe that children are the future, love them well and let them lead the way, show them all the beauty that posses in side, give them a sense of pride, to make it easier, let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be…’
I hate to say it but they really do help. I was hungover to fuck on sunday afternoon, attempting to sleep off a mixture of illness and weekend of debauchery inbetween texting a man who probably doesn’t deserve my time ,I felt a tap at the door and this little blond head crawls through into the pit of doom that is my floordrobe.
There is only one boy who can get me out of my bed, he is fourteen months old and he is my nephew.
I pick him up and pull him onto my bed as aunty Laura has six days worth of lindt advent chocolate to share… church carol concerts, family traditions and the such like stopped meaning anything to me, I genuinely didn’t care any more because all Christmas reminded me of was arguments and angst, being too old and miserable to give a shit.
But that little face, it’s hard to describe it’s like okay dude I don’t want you to know me as the miserable prick who sits grimacing in the corner.
And so I do it for him.
So When I think of Christmas now what do I think of?
Dudely ironically- i remember many a christmas eve or two / the days leading up to it being around that market and now ironically managed to do all my shopping on that little high street (enjoy guys 😉 ha)
But the good times,
I remember Wham’s last Christmas, the scent of oranges, a plastic school, Barbie pink presents that could never be beat, how many years can you get the three in 1 Barbie house, horse and carriage AND fairy princess sindy? huh? sod knows where that bitch is now…
I remember Mr Frosty, Beethoven, The Snowman. Hot Blackcurrant and Home Alone with my brother.
Come and Join the celebration with the carol singers and the 80s delight that was Santa Clause the movie.
University christmas evenings, dancing dressed as elves to shaking stevens as fake snow filled the SU, Christmas day evening at friends, Clifton boxing days.
It’s not that bad really.
Even when circumstances change and traditions stop because friends stop speaking and families change- it’s not really the be all and end all- you make new ones , half a bottle of rose and Mariah Carey’s Christmas can bring the best out of anyone 😉
Or so I tell myself….
I think I feel more lost this year than I ever did. Two years to thrity and not a sodding clue- but does it really matter, really?
Me and my sister still get over excited about watching the baby video of me in 1998 , a toddler wobbling along to Wham’s last Christmas, fallen over the dog and being asked ‘what do you say on the telephone Laura?’
If only I’d been taught what not to say on the telephone 😉
I’m still a miserable git though Waitrose today was like some kind of new found warzone.
Middle class terror as nan vs parsnip battling the barbor clad masses picking up vegetables off the floor as all hell breaks loose in the under stocked fruit and veg Isle- luckily a special delivery of fresh produce was shipped in and no pensioners were maimed in this mornings Penn based chaos.
Will I ever find the day when I become one of those women? Hosting family dinner for a brood of grown up children and grandkids?
I’ll probably be dead by then but the thought would be nice. I said Bridget Jones is on tonight , she said ‘I’ve never seen it’ I said well it’s pretty much like living with me, she responded with , ‘Oh I won’t bother then’
One thing I did enjoy as a young adult at christmas was the merry xmas text messages.
They don’t happen any more
so if you’re feeling old school please do send an SMS HA.
My bottom lip throbs, I am now at the age when stress combined with more than one week night out equals ulcers and a pout jordon would pay good money for but you know what it’s okay… my bed may be empty but it’s warm. My bank account may be in debt but I live at home so I’m not about to starve and the tv may be shit but the radio times now comes complete with Netflix and Amazon Prime recommendations (wonder how much they payed for that / for Bill Murry to sell out and do a Christmas prime show- would rather watch groundhog day babes) – ‘Bill Murry is a v.good actor’ #youknowwhoyouare xx
It can’t be that bad tomorrow right? I remember when the LPJ Christmas blog based specials were filled with debauchery and scandal. This blog was always a Christmas story, and one that started with the days leading up to the big day xmas 2009. But please excuse me if this years is spent with pjs, tea and chocolate reindeer (I’m so past it I didn’t even realise xmas blast off was on) maybe I’m losing my marbles, like the cat we’ve had since I was in year seven who has lost her bearings and requires a litter tray like a geriatric as she can’t go outside. Or maybe I am just mellowing like a good cheese, content with being the acquired taste of a stinky old and blue bree rather than the popular young and palatable babybel. Or maybe I just don’y give monkeys anymore but still want to make a good time of it for everyone even if I have gone from succulent grape to brandy soaked raison.
So I light my festive themed candle and raise a mug of fizz,
Because we all have to grow up one day
But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all