It’s the most (un)wonderful time of the year

Nobody can remember where the bright idea to stay in Joburg for the festive season came from.

But there we were, 12 strangers in a ghost town on December 25. A Portuguese granny out for the day from her old-age home. The hosts, a duo with good co-ordinating skills. A singleton who had to “work through the holidays”. Another singleton who didn’t emerge from his phone, except to say his family was overseas. A young family (us) avoiding the torture that is long-distance car trip and inlaws. A newly wed interracial gay couple from Vanderbijlpark. And a massive trifle.

We had one thing in common apart from knowing the hosts — being alone for the holidays. Our table was an odd one, a mash-up of curries and beef roasts. It worked. We shared the sides. Stories. And the trifle.

It was a fine time.

Because, if we admit it, the festive season can be sad and alienating — even in crowds of people, especially in the uninhibited company of loved ones. Without the respite of office or school, that’s 24/7 of fondness . . . or contempt. Add alcohol and it’s easily ignitable.

So how to not let the fragile mental state shatter during the holidays? Pacing. Small doses. Time-outs.

Or, ditch the whole thing and hang out with amiable strangers. Do something counterculture.

Our mash-up may have been a desperate attempt at togetherness, but we are unlikely to have another one like it. We gave the day its due, got to know each other, not too much, promised to do it again some time. No heated arguments over, what will it be this year? Gravy preference? No scorn for the racist aunt. No having to avoid the uncle who gets a bit “feely” after too many whiskies, or the insecure, insulting cousin.

No solitude in the crowds. No pressure.

Just make sure someone brings a trifle.

L