Thursday 24 December
Christmas Eve
It’s Christmas Eve, probably my favourite day of the season, there is so much anticipation. Everything closes after today, at least it used to when I was younger. There was always a buzz around town as people panicked and made crazy decisions, purchasing last minute gifts.
When I was little, around junior school age, I lived in Devon. What was then, a small town called Ivybridge, not far from Plymouth. In the cul-de-sac where we lived, the parents would give a present for their children to a neighbour who owned a farm and a donkey. The father of that family would dress as Father Christmas, and with some help would walk the donkey from door-to-door handing the presents to the children on the evening of Christmas Eve.
One night I remember clearly. Father Christmas’ suit was so red, the sky was ink black, but it was snowing. The panier sacks on the donkey were bulging and the tinsel around its reins were gold and silver. I couldn’t say what my present was, I wasn’t important enough to remember. It was the moment that was magical, and my heart swells now just thinking about it. Not every Christmas was that magical, I have had one in particular that was the polar opposite. But I had that one, it stayed with me, and that’s what matters.
Then, in my late teens, twenties and thirties, there was the pub. Such a great atmosphere, so much nicer than New Year’s Eve. And cheaper. And as I’ve got older, and the kids have come along, the excitement baton is handed on – as it should be. The kids are still excited about the big day, albeit this year we will be eating on our own, just the four of us. And this year, Adora is cooking Christmas lunch for the first time. Amazing kid.
And right now, I am sitting in the front room having read the MR James ghost story that is being televised later this evening. A long standing tradition on Christmas Eve to have a ghostly tale or two on telly. There must be ghosts on Christmas Eve; past, present and yet to be.
The wood burner is blazing and has warmed up it’s iron carcus. My second glass of negroni cocktail has nicely warmed my carcus too, and the tub if cheese footballs have finally been opened.
All of the chores are done.
The whole of the south east of England will be in Tier 4 of lockdown come Boxing Day but I think most of the UK are starting their self-imposed lockdowns today. Oh, and a Brexit deal has been done. I don’t really care right now.
Negroni, family, peace, ghost stories, cheese footballs, wood burner, carols on the radio, lights. They’re all that matters to me right here, right now.
Next year? Who knows? Happy Christmas.
The Bald Birder 