Lighting the dark
(Nativity in Christmas lights: Carlisle, England)
Through the hazy lethargy of post Christmas jollity, I’ve finally found a moment to update you. I hope you had a suitably quiet / raucous / lovely / fun / happy / merry Christmas time and that you’re looking forward to an equally wonderful / quiet / raucous / lovely / fun / happy / merry New Year this weekend. I certainly am – I have a lot to squeeze in before then, but 2012 is rocketing towards me at great speed. On that note, I’ll unscrupulously reveal that I still have ten or so calendars left to whoever still requires one!
Christmas in the Cunningham household generally runs along a similar theme each year, with various mild deviations. I began by attending Midnight Mass in church, so my Christmas officially began at night time. Once I have woken up the next day, Christmas always involves a roaring fire in the living room (which feels much like being roasted in a furnace) while the rest of the house is breathtakingly cold. All family members receive a Christmas stocking despite us being in our mid twenties or in the case of my mother, late forties.* In order, the unwrapping of the first gifts takes place pre-breakfast and just after the Christmas tree lights have been switched on. They are rather sickeningly and delightfully tacky, but they gall my mother – though she was once very proud of their phone ringtone-esque musical capabilities. Thankfully they can be set to mute. After the stocking contents have been revealed and their paper ripped to shreds, it’s time for breakfast. After that comes the shedding of nightclothes, showering, dressing and the beginnings of lunch preparation.
So to the lunch; only after the meat has been placed in the oven and all the vegetables have been collectively peeled and prepared can we lay the Christmas table with crackers (most importantly) for pulling, as well as festively decorated candlesticks with sprigs of holly and fir, berries, glittery bits and other important table items such as cutlery and a tablecloth, et cetera. I believe it is important to remember that Christmas is a celebration, and as such my family has always created an atmosphere of a winter festival party, even if that requires some slightly ill advised temporary decorating. Then, the presents from under the tree are tackled with great alacrity. The rest of the day is then spent playing with gifts, eating, gaming, talking and perhaps taking a walk if the weather isn’t too dreadful.
This year, my mother insisted we make at least one gift for each other. Now, doubtless you would think (as I did) “well, Rosie has already made a jolly splendid calendar that took her many many hours, so that is surely the most wonderful present of effort and unbridled talent she could give.” Unfortunately, despite my hard work, this wondrous gift was unacceptable as a ‘home made’ present and I was told to produce something more. With a time crisis, I only managed to finish one gift – for my sister. The rest will have to wait. They will be drawings, of course and although I presented the preliminaries, they are far from completed. I received a series of home made cocktails (mint gimlets) and a bottle of sloe gin from my sister and a pair of warm knitted gloves from my mother. I was glad to receive fairly practical gifts this year – a mirror and towels for the still novel new bathroom, the aforementioned gloves, shoe grips for ice and socks.
*VERY approximate age.
– Today Rosie was napping in a slightly tragic way with a cold and is now currently traveling between Carlisle, England and Glasgow, Scotland –
