A fantasy family Christmas
My own fantasy Christmas is pretty much the opposite of the one that is pushed at us by the commercial world. It involves a very small outlay of cash and a lot of revelry. My idea of Christmas is a 12-day feasting session during which all work is suspended. It is a series of sumptuous candlelit banquets with much merriment and music. There is dancing and singing. There are rosy cheeks and lots of laughter. There is a roaring fire and outside it is cold.
The house is covered in holly and ivy, which we went out and foraged for. We play cards, dice, darts, chess, draughts, backgammon, shove ha’penny. We read books containing long ballads written by William Morris and we take postprandial naps. We give each other small tokens of esteem, something to eat or something to read. The few toys around are beautiful and made of wood.
We pass around the wassail bowl and drink spiced beer, cider and wine. There will be people everywhere. It is a time for sensual pleasures and merry company. The children play together in large groups and leave you alone.
In the modern nuclear family Christmas, by contrast, we are isolated. Each family member gives the other some kind of digital gewgaw and then does his or her best to remain stranded in his or her own little, lonely, screen-based world. All communal pleasures have vanished, to be replaced by a selfish chasing after one’s own instant gratification. I’ll be on the laptop, daughter is on her iPod, son is on his Nintendo DS, mum is watching telly and never the four shall meet.
Anxiety-inducing newspapers litter the ground. Magazines offering absurd abstract fantasies of celebrity life instil a faint sense of anxiety. Children whine and fight. Toys don’t work. The food is some off-the-shelf Tesco nightmare. All this can be avoided by disconnecting from the matrix and inviting many people to flow through your house.
In my fantasy Christmas, we would have no electricity so there would be no internet, email or television, and we’d play bagatelle and cards and put on plays instead. We would not delegate our entertainment to the BBC or Rupert Murdoch. We would amuse ourselves. There would be dozens of candles and endless card games. Have you ever reflected on the wonder of a pack of cards? Here is a portable games machine, offering an infinity of different games, that never dates, never breaks, needs no batteries, lasts forever and costs only a few quid.
Well, I have to say that our Christmas reality promises to feature some elements of my fantasy. None of the food will come from the evil usurious supermarkets, but all from neighbours, the garden or small businesses. Last year we served a gigantic home-cured ham from one of our illegally slaughtered pigs. A little bit of husbandry seems to me to be an excellent idea in these credit-strapped times. And cheap bits of game like rabbit, pheasant or woodcock could be a part of the feasting.
We are lucky enough to spend Christmas at the spacious house of generous relations, and they invite loads of family: sometimes there are 20 sitting down to dinner, of ages ranging from three to 85. “The more the merrier” is a simple fact.
I’d love a lie-in, though. If only we could get the children to wake at nine and not half past five.
Finally, I’d like to add that my indulgence and feasting lacks one dismal factor that ruins the modern Christmas for so many: and that is guilt. Do not be guilty! Sensual pleasure is at the centre of human life.
As the prophet says in Ecclesiastes, life is all vanity, tomorrow we may turn to dust, therefore we should eat and drink and be merry.
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A twelve day feast… who cooks and who washes all those dishes, or do you let the dog lick the plates clean?
Oh dear me, Penny P., you need to let your imagination run free… don;t worry, you won’t be saddled with all the work… the feast would be prepared by large groups working together. Many hands make light work. It’s the same with the washing up: once the dog has licked the plates clean as you helpfully suggest, then the washing up and putting away can be done in a few minutes by a team of you.
I find quite often the best conversations or ponderings happen over simple tasks such as washing up together. Perhaps because in that moment there isn’t the pressure that you MUST ENJOY YOURSELF that the christmas season so often brings with it.
I have trouble viewing your blog correctlly through the newest version of Opera. It looks ok in Explorer 7 and Firefox however.
This sounds delightful, and many hands do make the work light. After many years working at newspapers (often on Christmas itself), I now work part time at an alternative school, and have the joy of two weeks off over the holidays. I will be visiting my 84-year-old mum, and hope to lure her away from the telly with cards and games instead. Happy Christmas to all!
What about presents? Even children of Idle Parents love presents, expect to get them (clearly because the’ve been good all year) and are not always happy with wooden trains and handmade woolen dolls. Any suggestions to an idle mother-of-three-under-7?
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