Solitary but Seasonal

For a few months now I have been making my corporate Christmas cards on an industrial scale - mainly local sketches which are then given what I like to call 'The Lighthouse Treatment' - ie. I paint the sketches with 3D shiny/crystal paint and make the scene look like it's snowing and very Christmassy. As it was September when I started it would have been a bit ridiculous to accompany this festive endeavour by listening to my old faithful Andy Williams Christmas Album (which I spent years trying to escape from at home and then bought when I realised that putting up a Christmas tree in my own home just wasn't the same without it - damn it!)

Anyway - it is now mid November and thanks to the wonder of the internet I have been getting organised for the season - steadily and in a most unstressful manner. My local supermarket has all the usual paraphenalia but because it's not in a 'mall' setting' it's easily ignored by the need for bread and washing powder. Yes I realise that it's winter because I can now get hold of my beloved satsumas (most definitely NOT the same as clementines please note) and I'm thrilled by all the lovely tights on offer - but apart from that, even though I've bought the advent calendar in preparation and have a son learning his lines as the grumpy innkeeper in the church nativity play, I feel mostly able to ignore the whole thing. Most unlike me & more than a bit sad.

I have concluded that it's because I am now working for myself, by myself in the house, have the computer on in the house all the time for business and have become very parochial in my habits. Therefore when I ventured to a local shopping centre yesterday, it came as a huge suprise to hear an R&B version of something like 'deck the halls' - gosh, i thought, it's almost Christmas!

The effect was immediate, I was almost instantly thrown into a spending frenzy. I was thrilled by the shop windows displaying wonderful packages, the bows, the ribbons, the lace, the lights, and the sound of the oh so familiar, derided but beloved Christmas pop songs. It was like being wrapped in a delicious pashmina, drinking gluweine and singing round the fire with my family. I came home, wrapped a few gifts and gradually the warm glow subsided.

This morning, faced with the panic that I've run out of white paint so can't do any more snow on my cards at the moment I am pleased that I ventured into the retail madness that occurs at this time every year, but am even more grateful for the cold, clinical ability to check my bank balance from the comfort of my home, and give myself a good talking to and plan the internet shopping countdown to Christmas in earnest. Again, most unlike me.

I am trying to realise that the retail Christmas does not need to be my definition of Christmas - now matter how beguiling. I need to concentrate my efforts on the simple pleasures - driving the kids into town, in their pyjamas, under the duvets in the back of the car and showing them the city lit up at night; inviting friends round for some homemade potent and soothing mulled wine, twiglets and badly made mince pies - and all that sort of stuff.

Without those things this season will pass me by. Without a work's Christmas 'do' and the office Secret Santa, the visits from the reps always accompanied by shiny new diaries and huge tin of quality street - even though I've been involved in making a seasonal product and have young children - I will wish myself through to January in the blink of an eye. Being solitary in work at this time of the year feels wrong and although I wouldn't change it for the world I am grateful to Chris Evans for playing the Terry Wogan and Aled Jones 'Little Drummer Boy' yesterday - charity song, peace on earth lyric, slightly naff but totally wonderful and evoking the same feeling I got from the dreaded shopping mall.

Must go ... I'm off to rummage around for that Andy Williams tape ...