Look, I’m well aware that this sounds a bit downbeat. A bit bah humbug! But the time – after five decades of festive seasons – has come and this year I really am SO over Christmas.
Surely it’s not just me who reckons the magic has left the room? That the gift that keeps on giving has lost its appeal amid the acrid stench of the race for record-breaking profits.
As early as late-August – before we’ve even packed away our holiday gear – Christmas cards, wrapping paper and mass-produced horrible perfume and after-shave gift sets, over-priced and over-hyped courtesy of TV ads that cost a fortune, are stacked high and staring back at us.
I bet Johnny Depp doesn’t buy his Eau Sauvage gift set at Debenhams. I’d be surprised if he even dabs it on at all. I reckon Creed is more his scent of choice – around £200 a bottle if you’re feeling generous and want to pad out Johnny’s Christmas stocking. Although he’d really rather a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
So, is it just me, or has it really, finally become nothing more than a cynical commercial hoopla? Maybe it’s because my kids are young men now. Maybe it’s because it’s usually the woman of the house that ends up sorting it all, even though we’re working full-time and were well over the C-word years ago.
It’s a pressure I could really do without. I live with three huge males. Not one of them seems to feel any pressure re Christmas. I wonder why?
I’ve said I really don’t want to do it this year and that perhaps we should go away somewhere and escape the madness. They looked at me with horror-stricken faces as though I’d just announced that I was going to murder someone.
They call me Grinchy names, as if I’m somehow defective for not loving Christmas.
We have to accept that not everyone adores the festive season. Across the country, there will be as many people who are dreading the enforced festivities as those who wish it could be Christmas every day.
Homelessness doesn’t go away for Christmas, nor does poverty, illness, broken relationships, loneliness or bereavement.
Those who suffer any of the above are made even more aware of their plight by the overwhelming excess surrounding them.
I’m not being a party pooper, I promise. Just bear in mind that amidst the Ho, Ho, Hos this Christmas, there are equal measures of Oh, Oh, Ohs.
