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Christmas is coming — the goose is getting fat,
but not as fat as your mum, who remains a fat cow!— George Dawes, Shooting Stars (B.B.C.Television)
It was a chilly Sunday afternoon in early November, and we were in Leeds city centre. The Christmas decorations were out in force, sparkling above the streets and thrusting yuletide greetings upon us.
“Ahh, aren’t they pretty?”, I enquired to
one of my companions.
“Er … no”, she replied.
So, Christmas is almost upon us. Christmas with its trees, fairies, tinsel, baubles and its failing twinkly lights. The ‘Merry Christmas’ carrier bags. The oh-so-festive piped carols slapping around your face no matter where you go. The Old Spice (“for old age pensioners”, as Jasper Carrott eloquently dismissed it) adverts on ITV. Woolies’ Winter Wonderland! Noel’s Christmas Presents, the Queen’s speech, the dodgy Top of the Pops run-down of 1996. Lavishly decorated gifts (because Christmas is ‘for the kids, really’) and time with the family. The turkey dinner, the turkey tea, the Boxing Day turkey lunch... Christmas crackers that don’t go bang. People making their annual trip to church. Santa’s Grotto and his little elf helpers. Christmas cards and crackers that do go bang.
Christmas is one of the few holidays that is celebrated worldwide with as many traditions as there are countries. Whether the symbols of Christmas are the Yule Log, singing carols, the holly and the ivy or the fir tree, the spirit rarely changes: the Spirit of Peace, Giving, and Good Will towards everyone. Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol has a lot to answer for.
It’s hard to argue that Christmas hasn’t become a victim of commerce. It’s often a frequent complaint amongst believers that the real meaning of Christmas has become hidden, ignored, neglected or downright superfluous to those few days when everyone is happy.
But are they happy? People materialistically racing from store to store, and then frantically back to Woolworths late on Christmas Eve, trying to get that ‘just perfect’ gift for Aunt Bessie. Parents frowning at the whizzy new computer games machine that little Johnny wants and Argos value at ‘only’ four hundred pounds. The homeless, chilled to the bone, wanting, needing, your spare change. The R.S.P.C.A. advert reminding you that “a dog is for life, not just for Christmas” (either that or “a dog isn’t just for Christmas — save some for Boxing Day”). The annual police crackdown on drink driving. Somehow, Christmas just isn’t as cheery as it used to be.
Infant’s nativity plays have seen the innkeeper and the stable ousted slightly more, year after year, in favour of the Toys ‘R’ Us manager and the frozen turkey, amidst the glitter and razzamatazz.
Don’t let it happen to you — the truth is out there.
You know what I’ll be looking forward to this Christmas? Being able to buy Cadbury’s Creme Eggs …
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Last modified: 25th November 2005