The blight of the Christmas market
ATHENA has had two millennia to come to terms with Christmas and, grudgingly, must now confess to quite enjoying it. She loves the lights that brighten the darkness of the early evenings across the country, as well as the gathering expectation that accompanies the progress of the month. For its duration, she revels in the fact that Britain looks and feels slightly different.
Nevertheless, one recent phenomenon associated with the season has begun to irritate her extremely.
Towards the end of November, Athena will take a turn in a favourite spot, such as London’s South Bank or the close of Winchester Cathedral, and find it taken over by lines of small wooden sheds. They are the first sign of an approaching Christmas market and, from previous experience, they are a warning that the whole area should be avoided for another month at least.
Even before the markets open, the sheds spoil their setting and hopelessly constrict the passage of people. When the stallholders arrive, the problem is vastly intensified. It adds insult to injury that there is nothing to buy apart from knick-knacks, sweets and food.
Now, presumably these markets make money or no one would trouble to put them on and, in this sense, they are no different from any other commercial exploitation of Christmas.
Nevertheless, there are several reasons why they particularly irritate Athena. Outstanding among these is the fact that they use the beauty or celebrity of a place to attract people while utterly compromising its appeal for the duration. Their wastefulness is also an affront. Very few markets in Britain have permanents stalls, so why do we need these wooden sheds?
In some promotional material they are described as ‘chalets’, as if a Continental provenance adds to their allure. Between their annual outings, Athena imagines vast numbers of them colonising some hapless compound of limitless extent.
Finally, there is the fact that we have lots of historic markets that form part of our inherited streetscape. These often occupy architecturally splendid spaces in the hearts of our towns and cities and help bring those places to life. They have, however, been having a difficult time in recent decades, pitched in an unwinnable battle, first against chains and supermarkets and now the internet.
The best of them are inherently worth supporting during their Christmas fling, not least because they have a permanent and important role in the communities they serve. However, even historic markets at their worst feel an improvement on a Christmas market. Certainly, faced with kitsch from one and kitsch from another, Athena knows which kitsch she would choose.
Wooden sheds are a warning that an area should be avoided for a month at least