Christmas comes once a year but occupies three months

I suspect that Belinda's tune isn’t the only festive ditty to receive an early airing. I normally listen to my MP3 player to avoid the radio DJs’ incessant chatter. It will soon be time to avoid an onslaught of Cliff Richard, Slade and Wham’s rendition of Last Christmas as well. That said, I don’t mind Fairytale of New York because it sounds anarchic and Shane McGowan is a real character.

In other European countries, Christmas is consigned to where it reasonably belongs – the last week of December (presumably minus Slade and other such cheese). So why is it that, in Britain, we must segue straight from Halloween and Bonfire Night into the festive season?

I’ve spent the last decade pondering that question. Every September, I’ve felt shocked at seeing tinsel and baubles installed in supermarket aisles as soon as the summer gazebos have been swept away. I’ve sincerely wished that the pre-December fairy lights, mince pies and mindless seasonal TV adverts would disappear into the ether. I’ve christened Christmas with monikers such as Festering Season, Dreadmass and other less polite variants. “Dreadmass is coming; the retailers’ profits are getting fat; tis the season not to be jolly, BAH HUMBUG!”

But now something has changed. I’ve answered my long-standing question. Here in Blighty, we commence Christmas in October because there’s nothing else uplifting to occupy our attention during the winter months. We must endure an endless succession of dark nights, cold mornings, school and work runs conducted in the wind/rain/greyness/arctic frost. Perhaps we don’t get out much these days because of the downturn depleting our wallet. Far better to focus on turkey dinners, festive soirees and Santa’s grotto than to dwell on the latest austerity measures, rising fuel bills and how it always rains, like clockwork, at 3pm when it’s time to collect the kids from school.

So, yes, I can finally understand why people want to buy baubles in October. Thanks to procreating not once but twice, my attitude towards Dreadmass has softened significantly. It isn’t feasible to maintain a Bah Humbug stance when you have young children whose eyes light up when they see fairy lights in a garden centre or open a box from “Santa” containing toy cars. Okay, so the kids really do prefer to play with the cardboard box, no matter how much thought has gone into the present. That’s quite amusing in itself. Being part of a family Christmas can clearly melt the prickly heart of a non-religious single person who could otherwise find the festive season soulless and irritating.

Don’t forget that Christmas, spread over at least three months and with its focus on family relationships, isn’t especially friendly towards the child-free singleton who is force-fed continuous TV advertisements depicting partners curled up on comfy sofas in front of log fires; perfect nuclear families marvelling at what’s under the tree; adults lovingly smiling at each other over the Christmas dinner. I can see why the suicide rate rises during the festive season.

I remember the height of my Humbugginess. The entertainments then were different and focused on distracting dissolute single adults – the loose cannons on the deck. We’d start on Christmas morning with the smoked salmon, the scrambled eggs and the tipples and at some point in the afternoon, the most capable person would cremate the turkey and serve some partially-cooked roast potatoes to whoever was still awake and/or interested in eating. I know which Christmas scenario I prefer… and it isn’t the one with the burnt bird.

If you’re not religious, Christmas can typically descend into over-consumption and pressure to procure gifts. The rampant consumerism is enough to get anyone down. Those smug-looking TV adverts that start in October and tell us that “this Christmas, you need a new sofa/kitchen/perfume/life, etc.” ought to be canned at conception stage. It strikes me: what’s wrong with giving gifts such as an apple, an orange (a piece of coal?) and perhaps a thoughtful, hand-made wooden toy anyway? Do we really have to fight on eBay to buy the latest PS3?

This year, I’ve introduced a new approach to the Christmas shopping. I won’t be grabbing the last gift set from Boots just before closing time on Christmas Eve. In fact, I won’t be having a feeding frenzy on the high street at all. Instead, I’ll be recycling decent items found at boot sales and charity shops, many of which are in brand new condition. I mean, how does a new Lego set cost £60 in Toys R Us these days? I’m convinced it’s made in China for sixpence. We should just say no to expensive plastic tat. We can recycle, Freecycle, customise with creative flair…

Sing along now:

Tis the season to be jolly
Tra la la la la la la la la
Buying overpriced plastic items is a folly
Tra la la la la la la la la
Deck the halls, create a charming sight
Boughs of real holly beat expensive fibre-optic lights.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
A partridge in a pear tree.
She didn’t give me the entire Argos catalogue and a PS3.

Happy November!

Disclaimer: This blog entry is not meant to offend anybody with religious beliefs. The author feels compelled to point out that it is “ironic humour”. Thanks for your goodwill et al.

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