Western Daily Press (Saturday)
Have yourself a very cheesy Christmas
A farmer’s work is never done – but the holidays can still be magical, says
FARMERS are not the best source of presents, especially at Christmas when your average farmer finds it impossible to leave the farm. Unlike his wife, who is also desperate for help, he has so much to do. Farming husbands leave shopping until the last minute, though they can get invigorated by a request for “frillies”.
If you are not married yet but have been “courting” for a long time, and your present is a frying pan, it’s an indication that a proposal isn’t far away, unless you have elected to hit him on the head with it as soon as you unwrap it. However, farmers generally don’t do wrapping!
Somehow presents from farmers don’t get wrapped up – the effort in purchasing being effort enough. Should the present be handed over beautifully wrapped, it will be because the pretty girl at the perfume counter has offered to do the gift wrapping. I suppose if he buys perfume at least one of you will like the scent!
I’ve found a request for “frillies” to be the best bet, though it’s a brave farmer who steps into Ann Summers.
Last year just before Christmas, we were in Cardiff going to a rugby match, when we passed Ann Summers. It seemed like a good excuse to get the right size underwear, and we accordingly left the shop with my husband clutching his Ann Summers bag with some nice expensive things inside.
However, nowadays at rugby, they search your bags on the way in, and he suddenly saw what was about to happen and thrust the bag into my hands at the very last moment, managing to avoid mega embarrassment and a lot of raised eyebrows. It gave me a laugh anyway!
In London, the Chelsea Pensioners at the Royal Hospital know how to keep Christmas traditions alive. For ceremonial occasions, you will see them in their scarlet uniform, red jackets with long tails, brass buttons, black trousers with a red stripe and black sleeve cuffs with gold edging
and black hats. One ceremony I have attended with great pleasure is the Ceremony of the Christmas Cheeses, where we sat down with the pensioners as they enjoyed the cheese and sang the entertaining and well-loved song The Quarter Masters Stores which begins “There was cheese, cheese, wafting on the breeze”.
The highlight of the event is the cutting of a cheese by a Chelsea Pensioner, using a ceremonial sword. The tradition dates back to the opening of the Royal Hospital by King Charles II in 1692. This is situated in spacious grounds in the heart of London, running down to the Thames. A local cheesemaker agreed to provide the Chelsea pensioners (The Red Breasts of Chelsea) with their festive supply of cheese. This
has gone on every year ever since and now the long table groans with cheeses sent from cheesemakers throughout the UK.
This isn’t the only Christmas event; for the past 80 years pensioners and staff have gathered in the Great Hall for the stirring of the Christmas pudding. A giant mixing bowl is used and the pudding blessed by the chaplain as 14 pints of Guinness, 70 eggs, 5kg of currents and rum, sherry, brandy and port are added one by one by the pensioners, who each give the pudding a big stir.
Every year a large Christmas cake is donated by a different Australian state, with unusual and imaginative designs. The chaplain blesses the cake in rhyme and again it is cut with a ceremonial sword. After the
speeches, everyone joins in to sing Waltzing Matilda and the National Anthem. Any former soldier of the British Army over the age of 65 who is facing retirement alone can apply for residence. As the social life of the pensioners is rich and varied, with frequent invitations to attend special events, it seems like an attractive proposition for a retired military person, man or woman, who find themselves alone in life. They are unlikely to ever feel left out at the hospital and the Christmas traditions are particularly popular.
Back on the farm, the magic of Christmas might be seen to be lacking when it’s not really a holiday. For dairy farmers someone has to milk the cows twice a day as well as scraping out and feeding all the stock, and on family farms that’s generally the
farmer – and his family too, if he’s lucky. Whatever you believe, there’s something magical about being able to go out into the cold air after a heavy and inebriated meal and experience the quiet contentment of the animals at night, resting and cudding, while outside the sheds the night sky is bright with stars, and in your mind you can time travel, thousands of years to that first stable.
And it’s then you feel lucky to be a farmer.