Christmas Just Isn't the Same

You know, despite my much-avowed grinchiness and general grumpiness around all things Christmassy, this is actually one of my favourite times of the year. Or at least, it always used to be. When my mother was alive, Christmas was a time for family and was something I looked forward to all year. Christmas was a really magical time.

Since mum died, and Dad became manifestly senile, we haven't had a proper family Christmas. In fact, the last family Christmas we had was 1999. In 2000, I was working out my notice at a firm in Bradford, and they wouldn't let me have December 27 off to travel the 500 miles South from 'home'. I know, what could they have done to me - made finish work at Christmas and not January 19, which was my actual finish date? Still, I was a good girl then as I am now, and so I did as I was told and came back down to England on Christmas Eve, somewhat tearful and with a suitcase full of presents. I spent that Christmas with the ex and his parents. Which was perfectly enjoyable, but just not the same as being with my mum and dad and my crazy kid brother and my even crazier Nan.

In August 2001, Mum died. Christmas that year was not an especially fun time. We busted Nan out of hospital in Inverness on Christmas Eve with a promise to return her on Boxing Day. I wrecked my back carrying her up the stairs into the house - she couldn't have navigated the steep slope of the back yard which is pretty rutted and torn up, and my brother may be a strong lad but his back is ruined from carrying seven stone boxes of prawns around from his days on the fishing boats. We manhandled her into the front room eventually, but within two feet of the couch and facing the wrong way she decided all 120 pounds of her was hitting the floor, right then and there. Thankfully I was behind her with my arms locked round her middle at the time, but the only option I had was to fall to my knees faster than she could topple and pull her down onto my lap. I am wincing just thinking of it, believe me.

Christmas 2002, Dad was really senile and Nan was dead. I don't recall whether I went home or not. I think not. 2003 I'm not sure. 2004 I think I did, certainly 2004 because last year the ex made a huge song and dance about my not having told him I wasn't spending Christmas with his family. This despite the fact I'd been telling him since around June that I was going home, on average at least once a week!

The Christmas tree we had at home was the same fake tree we'd had for all of my lifetime. So the poor thing was around 30 the last time we ever put it up. We used to festoon the whole living room with decorations and swathes of cards. That tailed off in later years, mainly because Mum was working too hard to do much and Dad had no real interest in it. The tree was always put up though, and always the Sunday before Christmas. The presents then went under the tree on Christmas Eve, just before we went to bed. Some of the decorations on the tree were as old as the tree itself, too. I chiefly remember the delicate glass and metal ornaments, one of which I decided to put my thumb through one Christmas when I was tiny. I spent the night crying, with my thumb slathered in ichthammol ointment to draw out the splinters and bandaged up. It worked, though.

Anyway. When the ex and I moved in together, and we were renting, we never bothered with Christmas decorations. It wasn't even until Christmas 2004 that we actually bought a tree and decorations, despite having bought - or rather, he having bought - the house in 2003. I did go home that year, because the move happened the day I was travelling home so I wasn't around to help. I came home to find there was a passage from the front door to the kitchen through the front room and apart from the beds which were upstairs, everything else was dumped in the front room. So much for my carefully packing the boxes and labelling which room they needed to go into...It was just possible to get to the one clear armchair to sit down in front of the TV, which of course was plugged in and the Playstation all set up.

I left the tree behind...I didn't need a 6' fake blue spruce tree. I left the angel lights we chose together too. I did take the tree ornaments and the fluffy snowball lights I bought last year. Last week I bought a £4.97 4' fake tree in Asda and have just put it up. Yeah, it's too early. But I wanted to do it. I only have a couple of weeks or so to enjoy it in, so I may as well do it now. And it's made me feel sad and nostalgic, but not in a good way.

I feel as though everything I took for granted as a certainty in my life is gone. Which is I suppose what happens to that which we take for granted. It's funny. By now, I always thought I would be married off to someone, with children of my own and the kind of chaotically noisy, busy household that I grew up in. What happened?!

Huh. Introspection is a marvellous thing. Nearly as good as hindsight.