Christmas? It brings out the Stepford Wife
IFIRMLY believe that womenkind have only ourselves to blame for making such a palaver about Christmas. But there is something about the annual celebration that brings out the Stepford Wife in most of us. Men don’t really care about Christmas, or if they do they show little inclination to get involved in all the preparation. Yet even the least domesticated woman finds it hard to avoid getting swept up in the search for perfection.
Recently, the Queen of Christmas Craftiness, Kirstie Allsopp, mentioned she would be spending the day with her family in a New York hotel. There are many things I admire about Kirstie and here’s another to add, not only because she’ll no doubt have great fun but also because she was brave enough to admit to skiving off, when her career is founded on doing all kinds of clever things with tinsel and a sprig of holly.
I would like to spend Christmas in a hotel, too, but am committed to hosting at home and, of course, have started making those wretched lists and considering whether frozen brussels sprouts would be an acceptable short-cut this year, and should it be turkey? (Last year I did fillet of beef, so much easier, and it seemed fine.)
Christmas, though, seeps into us and even those of us least inclined to have a colour scheme for our wrapping find ourselves overwhelmed by a nagging urge to at least try to wind a garland of something or other up the stairs and sprinkle fairy lights around the place.
Even though there is no one in my house who cares for such things, and I know that I am incapable of creating any such designs, I’m still considering what to do.
The last time I tried I put a staple gun through the string of lights and that was that. I have nothing but admiration for people who turn their houses into show homes for the festive season, scented with nutmeg and pine, glittering and cosy. But I am bemused by why, as a sentient adult, I can’t accept that this is not in my skill set.
THE rest of the year I have no desire to be an excellent home stylist. My tables are laid with a plate or two, a glass and some cutlery. I am a stranger to the layering of presentation plates and mats, centrepieces and an exotic candle display. But at Christmas, suddenly, taking this more basic approach seems to fall short.
Even so, clearly my ambition isn’t really that great because, next week, I’m off to a hot place for a short holiday, which will undoubtedly ensure maximum panic when I return pre-Christmas to the long, unticked, to-do list.