Christmas Eve

Thought I was organised.  I’m not.  Here we are on Christmas Eve and I’m still chasing about like an idiot.  (I’m even late posting this rant online.)

I have delivered the last of the Christmas presents tonight to the friends and family members we won’t be seeing on Christmas Day.  I’m very glad to be home safely; the roads are treacherous as rain is now falling on top of the snow we’ve had lying for days.  The whole world is one huge sheet of ice.  It’s freezing hard and I’ve run out of salt for the paths.  We Brits are rubbish at coping with winter weather.

First stop tonight was at an old people’s home to visit a lovely lady who used to live along our lane.  She’s 83 years old and suffering from Alzheimers.  I first knew Auntie Dorothy 23 years ago when my elder daughter was a tiny girl.  She and her husband, Uncle Nick, befriended our family when they used to see me pushing the pram up and down our lane whilst heavily pregnant with our second child.  They are no relation whatsoever to us, yet over the years they became “family”.  Uncle Nick offered to walk the baby in the pram as I was struggling to walk properly, and that was the beginning of a beautiful and lasting friendship between our two families.

Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Nick with our children

Auntie Dorothy taught our girls to bake cakes; Uncle Nick taught them how to tend a garden, and I do believe to this day that it was because of his early lessons that our elder daughter is now a horticulturalist.  These two marvellous people had two grown up sons, but never had grandchildren, and our girls filled that gap for them to some extent.  Over the years, our families have celebrated each other through some great times and helped each other through some terrible times.  Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Nick lost their younger son to cancer when he was only 30; we lost a business and my husband lost most of his family as a result.

It’s days like today when I give thanks for the special people in my life; the ones who really make a difference.  Uncle Nick died a number of years ago and after living alone at home for many years, Auntie Dorothy now resides in an old people’s home where she is well cared for.  She recognises me when I visit after thinking for a minute or two.  What she does recall very clearly, however, are the times long ago.  She remembers the times when her own sons were small boys; she remembers the times she spent with our girls.  Somehow she focuses on the good stuff.  She seems to have forgotten the bad stuff.  Maybe that’s how Alzheimers works; I hope it is.

My grandmother with my elder daughter in 1986

Auntie Dorothy has no idea what day it is; she has no concept of time or seasons.  She doesn’t realise that it’s Christmas even though we sat right by the Christmas tree tonight.  And as it’s Christmas, a time which always makes me think of my own grandparents, as well as Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Nick, the following poem seems so appropriate.  It’s also for my own precious mother:

Look Closer

What do you see nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you look at me?
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes,
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice, ‘I do wish you’d try’.
Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe.
Who, quite unresisting, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill…

Is that what you’re thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I move at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of ten with father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another,
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon a true lover she’ll meet.
A bride now at twenty, my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own
Who need me to build a secure, happy home.

A woman of thirty my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty my sons will soon all be gone,
But my man stays beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At fifty once more babies play round my knee;
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look at the future, I shudder with dread,
For my young are all busy with young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love I have known.
I’m an old woman now and nature is cruel,
Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart,
There’s a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells,
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I’m living and loving all over again.
I think of the years, all too few – gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer – see ME.

By Phyllis McCormack

Three generations of my family

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All I want for Christmas is …

“What do you want for Christmas?”  My husband asks me this and I ask him the same at some point each December.  And every year we have to rack our brains to come up with something we’d want / like as a gift.

We do our Christmas shopping for family and friends, sometimes with a clearly defined list, sometimes not; occasionally well in advance of the event, mostly horribly late.  And whilst trailing round the shops, and fighting through the crowds, we check out all the possible festive gifts for one another, and buy none of them.

Neither of us gets revved up over a gift boxed set of random products or a new winter sweater; but equally neither of us can come up with something that we really, really want for Christmas.  Now, this has nothing to do with a lack of imagination; more to do with the fact that there’s very little we need.  And always having one essential eye on the family bank balance generally makes those things we’d quite like to have fall into the “non-essential” category, and they tend to stay there un-purchased.

Also, being a family of makers and doers, arts and crafts have always featured strongly in our November and December leisure time; the results of which have been the most amazingly weird and wonderful Christmas gifts over the years.  Personally, I like to receive a handmade gift; it warms my heart to think of someone lovingly slaving away just to put a smile on my face.

However, when this year’s request came for my gift ideas, I decided to seriously go for it just for comic value:

1.  A January holiday, jetting off to somewhere warm, just the two of us

2.  A camera; one which zooms in and out properly and takes video footage

3.  A posh expensive dress and a pair of high heeled pointy shoes (even though they’ll make me too tall)

4.  A new car; a slinky fast sporty number to replace my battered old box on wheels

I could have gone on, plenty, really I could, but that would have been overkill.  I also know that a couple of those requests can be accommodated without too much pain.

And my husband’s response to my question, “What do you want for Christmas?”  He said the same thing he’s said for the last 30 or so years,

“I’ll have you stark naked please with a ribbon on for Christmas!”

Well, this wish has never actually been granted to him, what with small children, teenagers, grandparents and all the other manic stuff of Christmas mornings.  And no, you really shouldn’t feel sorry for the man of the house, as the only difference between his Christmas morning dream and any other ordinary morning will be the bloody bow.

However, after 30 years of him first asking for me naked with a ribbon on for Christmas, and me never quite managing to get it all wrapped up beautifully and presented properly for first thing Christmas Day, I’ve decided that this year, my lovely midlife husband will get his wish.  We have no small children to attend to these days; there’ll be no pressure to perform (Oh God).

I will, of course, make sure he also has a gift or two tucked under the tree for later, even though we both know that the best things in life really are for free.  My only worry is, what will he ask for next year?

I'm thinking of something along the lines of the above

But suspect it'll be something like this. Oh dear!

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Taking my hat off to Julia

I had an evening out this week with an old friend I’ve not seen for ages; it was hugely enjoyable.

We drove out to a small village pub a few miles away to sample their lovely home-cooked food and have a couple of drinks.  The place was full of people having Christmas parties, with paper hats, crackers and all the festive paraphernalia.  We managed to get a table in a cosy corner right by the open log fire and got down to some long overdue catching up.

My friend has been on her own for the last six years, since her now ex husband traded her in for a younger model.  Have to say, Julia was looking great.

I also have to say that six years on from the most traumatic period of her life, my midlife friend has things pretty much sorted.  Yes, she struggles financially even though she has a full-time job.  Yes, she has had to take on endless new responsibilities.  But aside from all the obvious problems of being on her own after a being in a long marriage, she’s a whole new woman.  The Julia I knew long ago was always assertive to an extent; she ran her own successful business for many years.  But the new Julia makes the old Julia look like a mere shadow.

Julia is in her mid fifties; her attitude to life is that of someone 20 years younger.  “Young at heart” is a good description.

She told me of her trip to Hungary to get her teeth fixed; she went there because it cost less than having the treatment in the UK.  It involved three trips, and she travelled alone for two of them.  Whilst there, she visited the sights of Budapest, enjoyed the luxurious spa waters in the city, stayed in a good hotel and ate out.  All alone.  And she was happy with that.

This last summer Julia went on a camping trip with her two grown up children; camping would not normally be Julia’s thing.  The three of them and Julia’s dog stayed in a large old tent usually used by the kids for music festivals, so it’s well-used to say the least.  And the camping pitch they had in Cornwall was on a serious slope (they were late booking!), the result of which found Julia waking up each morning in a bundle several feet from where she started out as she’d slipped down the slope during the night.  They had breakdowns with the old car they were travelling in, requiring a new clutch cable and new wheel bearings just to keep them on the road.  All of this she thought amusing, although when her son suggested whilst driving home that they repeat the trip next year, she told him, “Over my dead body!”

There were other very funny tales to tell that evening and I came away with panda eyes from my mascara running down my face.  Inevitably, some of the jokes were at the expense of her ex husband, who incidentally is on to his third relationship since the split from Julia.  “He’s obviously having a hard time finding a good replacement!” was what she said with a grin.

Julia is more confident and happier in her own skin than ever before.  She’s thinking of re-starting her business on a part-time basis.  She’s thinking of the future; she feels that a new man would be quite nice, although she’s not sure where to find one.  She was hoping I could perhaps supply her with one, but I don’t know of any going spare right now.  She also knows that a new relationship could work now that she’s recovered and found fresh confidence; any sooner would probably have spelled disaster.

I’m loving that new sparkle she has in her eyes.  I admire her “young at heart” approach to life.  I adore that she can swear creatively, laugh and joke around and look to the future with joy.  I’m completely and properly taking my hat off to Julia.

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Christmas Party? Sorry, can’t make it.

We’ve decided to organise a Christmas party.

It’s a while since we threw a proper Christmas bash for family and friends.  Now, I know that we’ve left it a little late, to book a venue, sort out food and so on.  However, I have found a lovely room, and the owners will cater if required.  They also provide overnight accommodation for anyone too pickled to make it home afterwards. So ..  this knees-up will be taking place on Monday 21^st December at 7.30pm.

All of that was amazingly easy to arrange; done within 24 hours of the first party thought crossing my mind.

Phone calls and emails swiftly followed; invitations were extended.

A week later it occurs to me that I may have been over-ambitious; I think I may have got a little carried away with the thought of spending a few pleasurable festive fun-filled hours in the company of my nearest and dearest.  It seems that not everyone has the same enthusiasm as me.

I’m well aware that 21^st December is very close to Christmas, and people will obviously be busy with their own preparations and events.  I also know that many folk will have to get up the following morning and go to work.  I also definitely know for sure that if a friend was to call our house and invite us to a completely free festive bash, we’d be there like a shot, especially during Christmas week – what a great way to get the festivities started.

I should point out that the lack of enthusiasm I’m talking about emanates in the main from our midlife friends.  Our daughter has had a completely different response from the young livelies she’s asked along, and some of them will have to travel half way across the country to join us.  And that’s the difference.  Young people are keen to get involved in anything that promises to be fun, regardless of undertaking long, expensive train journeys, sleeping on someone’s floor or dragging themselves to work bleary eyed after a night out.

Guys looking lively at a 50th birthday party!

Middle aged people, on the other hand, are not so keen it seems.  Maybe midlifers are just too tired.  Maybe midlifers are sick to death of Christmas; after all we’ve done a good number of them.  It’s completely plausible that my midlife friends are struggling to find that elusive “Christmas spirit” in the midst of this bloody awful recession.  Or maybe their partying days are just, well .. over.

Me thinks not.  Me thinks that lack of confidence is a primary factor; laziness is another.  It’s easier to not do something than to do it.  Comfort zone shrinkage is a common affliction amongst the middle aged; I witness it every day in the people I know.  I have to concede ultimately, however, that it’s possible I’m way off the mark with my entire way of thinking.  Perhaps it’s just me.

Regardless of the midlife reluctance vibes coming my way, and I will waste no more time considering them, we are going to have a lovely evening in the company of like-minded people who love a good old knees-up.  Even if it means holding a recruitment day at the local college.

"The music's playing, but I'll be buggered if I'm getting up to dance."

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Christmas starts on 18th December and not before

The first Christmas card of 2009 fell on to our doormat this morning.  The very kind sender was very considerately wishing our family a “Very Merry Christmas” and a “Happy New Year”.  I’m not being ungrateful, really I’m not, but I’ve filed it.  Until it becomes relevant.

Well, I can hardly put it up on the window sill, now can I?  It’s November 21^st for God’s sake.

I’m still in late summer / early autumn mode if I’m honest.  You know – fluffy socks some days, bare feet on others.  And winter’s not officially with us until December 21^st.

For me, Christmas should begin one week before and last until January 2^nd, maximum.  My friends keep asking, “Are you all sorted for Christmas?” No, actually, I’m not, and I’m not going to be for a while yet.  I’ll get sorted for Christmas, when it’s Christmas.

Bah humbug?  No, definitely not.  Christmas is a wonderful time of year.  But should it take up weeks and weeks beforehand?   No!  I’m really busy with other more important things.

In my view those lovely well-wishing people who send Christmas cards in November clearly do not have enough going on in their lives.  Christmas starts on 18^th December and not before.

Signed:  Busy, grumpy, midlife writer

P.S. Have to say, though, I did come across this whilst writing the post.  I absolutely love it because it’s light-hearted, bright and happy.  Think I’ll send something similar this year (but not until 18th!).

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