Yes, it’s that cliched saying that every man, woman and their dogs brothers rabbit are furiously hashtagging. But we’re not going to get away from it, the big man in red is raising his blood pressure up at the North Pole, parents everywhere are running around like headless chickens attempting to make something, anything into a nativity costume, livers are steadily getting pickled on alcohol paid for by the boss and kids are being wound to their very tightest springs before being let loose like Zebedee finding that amazing magic roundabout and shouting his immortal “boing”. (Old reference there, apologies, look it up.)
If you hadn’t twigged, (and I feel for you if you haven’t) yes, it is almost that wonderful time of the year. Christmas. I may have perhaps mentioned a couple of weeks ago that it was perhaps a little too soon for all this festive excitement but now we’re firmly into December I would say even this hard hearted old scrooge is feeling the festive spirit.
As I type this I would like to say I am wearing Christmas PJ’s, my adorable little pooch is next to me looking suitably Christmassy in her festive jumper and we are listening to “Now that’s what I call Christmas” on the record player. Whilst sipping a hot chocolate. Sadly this is not the case. I have though, lit my annual Christmas Candle, (Yankee Sunlight on Snow FYI) wolfed down today’s offering in the window of my advent calendar (Lindt – the little red round one, too good for words) and I’ll leave the hot choc for when it’s practically the law to drink such fancy stuff (ski holidays, Christmas markets and Christmas Eve) and stick to the coffee. Obviously.
The bulk of my Christmas shopping is done and, get this, WRAPPED. I know, what the?? As per usual I am running out of places to hide it all whilst crossing my fingers in the hope that my son doesn’t choose this year to make like Poirot and decide that it’s time to start hunting for gifts. My husband has made the usual comment of “I haven’t even thought about Christmas shopping yet” making it a) a bloody good job I have and b) yet another year when he’ll panic the day before Christmas Eve and start asking me what I want. If only Christmas could be on the same day every year to make it, you know, a bit easier eh??
The Christmas cakes are made, packed up and are enjoying a pretty large tipple of brandy each week until it’s time to dust off the naff decorations, (oh yes, pure 80’s kitsch cake decs in this house thank you very much) slap them on and hope to goodness it tastes like something Mary Berry would approve of. I always plan to do some “traditional” baking on Christmas Eve but this usually involves burnt shortbread, the child getting bored of it all within approximately three minutes and then calling it all off so we can spend Christmas Eve afternoon in the pub instead. (Me, not the child I should add.)
Even the food order is done and despite the fact I am not even in charge of cooking lunch this year and the only task I’ve been afforded is “getting a few nibbles in for everyone” it very much seems as though good old Mr Sainsbury’s is greedily rubbing his hands together, labelling everything with a few Christmas stickers and pictures of holly and hiking up the prices of a piece of ham and some sausage rolls to such an extent that you are convinced it should be delivered on a horse and carriage by a male model in a Fortnum and Mason’s hamper. (The food, not the male model. Although…..)
My social media feed is filling up fast with the obligatory pictures of “here’s my tree”. Much like the must-do tradition of the back-to-school-uniform-photo-next-to-the-front-door, these beauties have crept up on my news feed as early as mid November and are now coming thick and fast. Love it. I will obviously be creating something as Pinterest worthy and brilliant as all the ones I have seen, perhaps even with a cheeky shot of said pooch in the Christmas jumper to add to the “Awww Factor” and may even be up by the time you read this.
Yes, you read correctly! I plan on getting the decs up (and obviously the social media photos) within the next few days, I even have a “tradition” for what happens when I do all this. Firstly and perhaps most importantly, small children and preferably husbands are banished as far away as possible to avoid anyone trying to place any decorations where they obviously Should Not Go. The TV will be on with my favourite Christmas film – I am of course talking “Elf.” And, by the time the rest of the family come home I will be sitting on the sofa, under a nice Christmas appropriate “Blanket Of Ooooooh” (named by my son to refer to anything so utterly fluffy and gorgeous and wonderful that you just cannot help but say “Oooooh.” Genius!) and admiring my handiwork whilst possibly (ok, definitely) eating chocolate in festive celebration.
And as for a works Christmas party? Well obviously, this “working for myself” lark gives me the perfect opportunity to sit on my sofa, wrapped in the Blanket Of Ooooh, probably in PJ’s with a perfectly home made G&T and class it as my very own “Work’s Christmas Party.” Best. Career Choice. Ever.