It's Beginning to Look..

It’s Beginning to Look…

The truth is, I just love Christmas.

I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but, for me, it’s one of the things my parents did well. I am the eldest of four boys and…man….we were a pain on Christmas Day. We would only make it to 5.30am and then barrel down the stairs. Our Christmas tree was always awash with presents and we would open them in a jumble of arms and legs, wrapping paper flying in all directions. Mum and dad would come down around 8am having been rudely awakened by their lads earlier.

Probably my fondest memory is seeing a racer bike wrapped up. It looked just like a racer bike with wrapping paper around it! I had been nagging to get a bike for weeks and when it turned out to be there, underneath the tree, I was made up. Not long afterwards, I skidded on ice and broke my arm. Fuck. 

As you get older, the memories get dimmer. Both of parents are gone now. My dad died in 1998. I was reminiscing the other day and shocked to realise I was only in my 30s when he had a heart attack and never recovered. Mum left us in 2019 under similar circumstances. I can still see her sitting on the settee in her little terraced house in Kingstanding. She often wore her pinny and always had a small, plastic tree with lantern-shaped lights on it. For years, I would stop off and see her en route to watch the footie at Villa Park. She would always offer me a sausage sarnie and cup of coffee. As she got older, occasionally she would offer then forget to make it and I would still be sitting there, empty handed an hour later.

I guess the point is that as the years pass, it becomes as much about remembering those no longer with us as it is spending time with friends and family. It invariably feels like people try harder to be nicer at Yuletide and families get together when maybe they wouldn’t ordinarily make the effort. It’s easy to become maudlin about things and forget to make the most of the time we have with people that are here.

Notwithstanding, things feel a little sadder this year as it’s the first Christmas in the last seventeen that my border collie Skye won’t be with us. He was always front and centre when it came to celebrations. On Christmas day he would unwrap presents with his paws and teeth and skulk off to his cave (our hallway) with his bounty. When it snowed, we would go for a walk, him in his jacket (that he hated) and red boots on his feet. He never really liked the rain or cold unless it was in the back garden where he could cavort for a few minutes then come inside.

I could tell you how much I miss him but it would be an understatement and you have better things to do than read my lamentations.

That would seem to cover the ghosts of Christmas past and present. As far as the future goes…well….anything is possible. There’s been an avalanche of writers published recently at ABCTales and who is to say that lots more won’t follow. That’s the thing about writing, it all starts with a blank page and then we get to choose how to fill it. Magic? Who knows? Maybe I'll write a book myself. All I need is a story and to make a start. One day. Soon. Yes, soon. 

I think that’s probably enough of my meanderings for now. All that’s left is to wish everyone on site a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

For anyone that’s interacted with my work, my eternal thanks.  

It must be about time for another mince pie…