Mistletoe and whining.....

Having only just recovered from my near death experience (*melodrama klaxon*) I find myself walking face first into another major ordeal designed to test my patience and stoke up the furnace of my grumpiness.  That ordeal is called Christmas and as those who know me will attest I’m not really a fan.

Admitting that you don’t like Christmas has an effect on other peoples facial expressions that I imagine would be similar to admitting that you quite enjoy eating dog shit. A look of horror is immediately apparent, followed by a mixture of sympathy followed by a smattering of confusion then an overwhelming look of disgust.

My wife, like most people is a huge Christmas fan and the fact that I’m not is a source of annual tension. I feel it’s presence from about the middle of October, loitering in my calendar like an appointment with the dentist for root canal work. I detest it’s zany, artificial jollity in TV advertisements and on the high street. ‘Buy something special for the ones you love’ is the message but ‘buy more shit’ is the take-home message.

Don’t get me wrong, my grumpiness towards Christmas is not really triggered by the commercialisation of a religious festival, far from it. As a devout atheist I have no beef with the commercialisation of a pagan festival, which was hijacked in order to provide an arbitrary approximation of the birthday of a man who in all likelihood didn’t even exist.

My ire is predominantly concerned with the distraction and the hassle that ensues and it’s impact on everyday life.

People adopt strange behaviours as they implement a military planning approach to organising social calendars. The office party season commences as the streets fill with bladdered lunatics, their stagger demonstrating that they don’t get out very often.

I have to endure the same old nonsense songs with meaningless sentiment, peddled from every speaker from October onwards. Who writes these songs? What were they drinking?

The annual game of ‘who wants what’ begins where surprise has been replaced by scouting missions and covert telephone conversations in order to get the presents just right. I love giving presents but the effect is somewhat diluted when Amazon wish lists are exchanged in advance. (and I'm just as guilty by the way)

A barrage of scribbled Christmas cards from people I’ve never heard of are rammed through the door by neighbours obligated to ensure that nobody is left out. I gave up the tortuous and pointless exercise of sending Christmas cards years ago on the basis that I can’t be arsed. Instead, I take the money I would otherwise have spent on cards and stamps and instead I spend it all on whisky. I think that’s what Baby Jesus would have wanted.

I realise I’m painting a bleak picture here so I ought to point out that I’m not a total misery arse. There are positive aspects to Christmas, spending quality time with friends and family, drinking yourself daft and eating your own body weight in salty carbohydrates are all welcome distractions from the drudgery of winter. But it could be so much better and yet people seem to go into Christmas auto-pilot even though in many people it induces pathological levels of stress.

This year we are spending Christmas in France with Mels parents. The fact that we are 800 miles away from home, sat by a log fire and can celebrate the end of a very rewarding year in great company is something I am looking forward to immensely particularly after the last few weeks of malaise. I intend to discover the ingredients of a Christmas that works for me and in all likelihood I'll find them in some kind of bottle. 

Buffet season

So it's here, the buffet season which is the main thing I look forward to each Christmas. Not for me the glitz and glamour of Christmas decorations, certainly not the religious periphery that we're told to remind ourselves about, nor even the gifts and presents bestowed upon each other on xmas day.

No, for me I look forward to the various buffet spreads, tantalising my taste buds and punishing my waistline. For the last couple of years, we have eaten out on Christmas day at a local pub in order to avoid the stress and strains that accompany a full Christmas lunch. This decision inadvertently caused a ripple effect which is most welcome. Christmas eve has now become a buffet-off amongst Mels family and being the world buffet champion for three years running now, I look forward to Christmas eve more than Christmas day itself.

Mel has been hard at work all week making Christmas cake, Stollen, Florentines, chocolate buns and this morning she is assembling two luxury Garland rolls, one sausage meat with quails eggs and black pudding and the other cheese and onion. I literally cannot wait and have taken to standing at the glass kitchen door like some kind of salivating window licker.

My contribution thus far has been to drink brandy, eat twiglets and make encouraging sounds whilst playing festive music on my ipad which I think you will agree is a valiant effort. I have just had to shell a dozen quails eggs and frankly I'm exhausted now.

Her sister Penny is cooking a turkey and her mum and dad have prepared a large ham and a Rabbit Terrine which I am particularly looking forward to. I will of course sing the obligatory chorus of 'Bright eyes' whilst simultaneously devouring the terrine and like any champion buffet eater will save enough space for cheese and biscuits and cake.

As I have said numerous times previously,  I'm not the biggest Christmas fan but I'll make the effort for Mel and her family and will try really hard not to get legless tomorrow as I have on each previous occasion. A break from the mental stress and bother of the last few months will be most welcome.

Have a lovely xmas and I'll see you back here in the New Year.

Al.
x

It's beginning to feel a tiny little bit like Christmas......

So we have reached my absolute favourite time of the year - The end of X-Factor.  We have a love hate relationship with X-factor in our house. Mel loves it and I hate it. I used to really annoy her by making snide, sarcastic remarks from the sofa but now I just type them into Twitter and annoy everyone else in the world which seems to keep the peace in our house.

I don't particularly have a problem with shit karaoke shows, just when they dominate two hours of every Saturday and Sunday night for 10 weeks. Of course, I could choose to do something else but then what would I have left to complain about? I revel in the ludicrous self-importance of the judges and harumph my way through the hard luck stories of the mindlessly deluded contestants. What really bothers me is that there are literally thousands and thousands of talented musicians who will never get the recognition or success they deserve. These muppets can just about hold someone else's note and yet get adulation and fame simply by being part of this national freak show.

My pain is exacerbated by the fact that it is on immediately after Strictly Come Dancing which means an entire four hours of my Saturday night is lost to this drivel. I don't fundamentally object to Strictly as the contestants clearly work hard and demonstrate considerable skill but as anyone who has been on a big night out will attest, dancing is not my thing. I dance like a geography teacher trying to fit in at a school disco and I try wherever possible to avoid it.

So now we can get on with the serious business of Christmas before I commence my health regime. My body seems to know this and is stockpiling to accommodate. My alcohol intake is increasing as we approach the festivities although I have managed to keep my waistline in check through healthy eating. Last Sunday Mel and I went for a walk to Tatton Park with my Sister-in-laws dog Saffy. The snow was still fairly deep and that matched with a thick fog lent a slightly eerie atmosphere to the day. I took my new camera and amazed myself with some of the pictures I took.

The below picture was my attempt to capture that atmosphere although the artiness of the shot was slightly compromised by the ever inquisitive Saffy. See if you can spot her.

Remember, remember the 3rd of November........

Today was the day when it finally felt like the golden days of Autumn had come to an end and the slow decay into winter has begun. Yesterday I drove to Edinburgh and back in a day which was a pretty stupid decision in retrospect. Driving 700 miles in a day is difficult at the best of times, but doubly so when it is absolutely arsing it down with rain. Even with windscreen wipers at full pelt, I could still barely see a thing.

Today most of the drains are blocked by fallen leaves and spending even a nanosecond outside makes me scurry for indoors like the big girl that I am. Big coats have been taken out of the wardrobe and dusted down in preparation for the harsh weather ahead.

I also notice that the Christmas adverts have started in earnest which is a thoroughly depressing thought. My sister has issued her first tentative stab at a Christmas present list and I know that I can only ignore it for a few weeks at the most.

For now I shall remain a Christmas denier but it's only a matter of time before someone starts shaking those bloody sleigh bells.