Here we are at the beginning of December, my house is strewn with Christmas decorations, the kids have decorated the tree, we have strings of lights ready to festoon the garden, I have all my special Christmas candles out, the Advent calendar is hanging by the dining table, there’s Christmas music loaded up on the iPod and I’ve started my annual re-read of Connie Willis’ Miracle and Other Christmas Stories. Yes, I’m an atheist celebrating a pagan mid-winter festival co-opted by the Christian church to commemorate the birth of a man who was was almost certainly not born on the 25th of December and I’m doing so in the middle of summer.
Of course I’m also rather stressed by all the STUFF that has to be done in the next few weeks and when people ask me how I am I tend to reply “A little weary…” and I whinge about being asked to do extra things like make 40-odd jelly cups and cook brownies for a year 6 mufti day on the same night as I’m hosting a P&C executive meeting at my place and having my mother-in-law over for dinner. But I do it any way. Because it matters to the kids. But I made Adam cook the brownies. (That was last night by the way.)
Is there a point to all of this? Well may you ask…there did seem to be one when I started….
(It would help if I wasn’t half-way through my second glass of Stanton and Killeen muscat.)
Oh, I know! Christmas, it makes me happy, for lots of reasons that are to do with family and friends and celebrating life and sharing and thinking of others and reconnecting with people we don’t see often and good food and drink and silly traditions and memories and endings and beginnings. So what I thought I might try and do through December is write a little about some of those things and try to explain why I, I really like Christmas.
Meanwhile, I’m going to finish this glass of wine and eat another chocolate elf.