I’m dreaming of a Honolulu Christmas, without all the endless adverts
IWAS quick to get on my high horse when Big Sis rang. Just back home from a scoot around the supermarket, I was suffering from a bad bout of Johnnymathaitis – too much ‘Mary’s Boy Child’ delivered too early. ‘Surely it is not too much to ask to be able to buy frozen broccoli in the middle of November without being assailed by carols!’ I thundered. ‘Carols -and it not even Advent yet.’
‘It does seem a little bit previous,’ replied Big Sis in her most soothing tone – not that her soothing tone was going to halt me now that I was in full gallop.
‘Our neighbours – you won’t believe this – had their Christmas lights up before Halloween. We can see blue bulbs flashing on their gable end every time we go to put the kettle on. ‘I keep thinking the Guards are coming.’
‘Well perhaps it cheers them up a bit,’ pondered Big Sis indulgently, ever reluctant to criticise. ‘Perhaps it cheers passers-by up a bit too.’ She is called Big Sis, by the way, not because she is particularly large – quite to the contrary in fact - but out of respect for her seniority, being older than Little Sis.
‘It sorta takes the joy out of the season of goodwill when it becomes a two month marathon of commercial hysteria, don’t you think?’ I resumed my rant. ‘Pity the poor check-out staff who have to put up with Winter Wonderland and I Saw Mother Kissing Santa Claus on an endlessly repeated loop as soon as the barm bracks have been cleared from the shelves.’
‘They probably don’t even notice it after the first week,’ suggested my sibling. ‘I just rang to…’
But I was not to be diverted: ‘Radio stations should be banned from playing that Slade song before December 18 – that’s what I believe. Where has all the genuine festive magic gone? Where is the heartfelt ho-ho-ho? Christmas should be a time for family not for shopping.’
‘You are quite right, of course,’ said Big Sis calmly but firmly. ‘Christmas is indeed about family. I could not agree more – and that is precisely why I rang.’
‘Eh?’
‘Little Sis and I have been talking.’ When it comes to clan decision making, sisterly collusion is the order of the day. I shut up, choking back urge to mention that I have given up watching television rather than sully myself with exposure to the endless Yuletide advertising.
‘We are all spending Christmas Day with various in-laws. So, we have decided, Little Sis and I, that it would be simplest if the Medders Christmas is held next Sunday. The Niece is cooking. Dinner will be served at 4.30 in the afternoon. No present should cost more than a tenner. Goodbye.’
She cut the line.
Thus it came to pass that Medders Christmas 2017 was celebrated on Sunday, November 26. A full month before the official festival, we gathered at The Niece’s house, with a full complement of uncles, cousins and childer.
The Niece served beef casserole and pretended not to hear when I mentioned that it is customary to have turkey. She also produced lemon meringue pie rather than mince pies.
It was great craic. I hate mince pies anyway. The uncles sang ballads by the fire while the childer (and me, I confess) threw balls of wrapping paper at each other after opening their presents. We left at the end of the evening still laughing and laden down with proper prezzies, including a recipe book for Hermione and monogrammed handkerchiefs for me.
The success of our pre-Christmas Christmas set me thinking that there is no really good reason to stick with December 25 as The Day. The Bible is not particularly date specific. There must be room for manoeuvre.
So I reckon that next year, we should go the whole hog and move the entire kit and caboodle forward not one month but five or six. Let’s have a Hawaiian themed family Christmas, with turkey cooked on the barbecue and everyone holding hands for a chorus of ‘We All Love Figgy Pudding’ performed in the open air.