Well, that’s the madness over for another year (or at least nine months); the leftovers have been stored in the fridge, the dishwasher has been loaded and gently hums away while my brother in law snores peacefully on the sofa in front of the fire and the rest of the family slouches in a post Christmas dinner torpor.  Even my sister’s two jack russells, normally so energetic and lively, are content to plonk themselves in my lap and endure having their tummies rubbed.  ‘Tough life, eh?’ I remark to Poochie as she turns and gives me a pleading look for momentarily stopping the rubbing to make myself a little bit more comfortable.  The weather outside is frightful but inside it’s so delightful and for the first time this holiday, I feel truly relaxed.

I will freely admit to being quite the grinch around this time of year.  I remember as a child that I would always look forward to Christmas, not just for the presents (though they of course are a part of it) but also for the decorations, the songs, the food and just the general feel good factor that accompanies the season of peace and good will to all.  I always remember a hint of anticipation in the air as soon as you heard the gravelly voice of Shane McGowan reminiscing about Christmas Eve in the drunk tank and the old man singing The Rare Old Mountain Dew (it just occurs to me that I’ve never checked if that’s an actual song or not) and a puerile glee in singing along to the third verse as loudly as possible, preferably in the shop where it was being played (Ya scumbag, ya maggot, ya cheap lousy faggot, happy Christmas yer arse, I pray God it’s our last!)

Alas, as I’ve gotten older the anticipation has diminished considerably and Christmas is becoming less and less a celebration but more a feat of endurance.  I think the first thing to go was the desire for presents; those who know me are well aware that I make a conscious choice not to celebrate my birthday as since I turned twenty-one almost a decade ago, each revolution of the sun just reminds me of having one less year on this mortal coil.  I think my opinion of Christmas and the obligatory new year celebrations after it have been probably been unduly influenced by my birthday attitude.  On that subject, you know that you are truly getting old when you appreciate socks, underwear and pyjamas for Christmas presents.

I’m not making any exaggeration when I say that in the UK at least, there have been Christmas decorations up in some of the shops since September.  It was Wizzard who said they wished it could be Christmas every day, and while their wish may not have been quite fulfilled, it’s certainly true for a quarter of the year and that fraction seems to be getting ever larger.  The one thing I do love about Christmas is the food but even I (and I very much doubt I’m the only one) think it’s more than a bit ridiculous to have mince pies on the shelves in September with a sell-by of mid-November.

I’m also becoming ever more resentful of the orgy of consumerism that Christmas represents these days with the US import of ‘Black Friday’ now being present in the UK for the past two years.  I realise that with online shopping becoming ever more prolific, traditional retailers have to do everything they can to try and get people back into the stores but it has backfired slightly.  The hoped for crowds never materialised as people got up just after midnight, reserved their (much needed) massive TVs for in-store collection online (oh the irony…), then went in at a leisurely time to pick them up.  I wouldn’t be surprised if in a poll of today’s youngsters, when asked whose birthday Christmas is intended to celebrate, the majority would answer SC rather than JC.

It’s all relative though.  I whinge however I am spending Christmas with a full belly, a roof over my head and most importantly, my family.  That’s definitely something to be thankful for.