On Saturday Let’s hope it’s the first and last time – ever

STRANGE year. Odd kind of Christmas. And a confusing future. What can a chap do on a Boxing Day such as this, other than go for a stroll in the fresh air and perhaps have another festive drink?

Certainly the big communal Boxing Day walk which this particular family enjoys each year with 20 or 30 friends will not be happening. As for the obligatory December 26 turkey curry which sees me feeding those same people… Well, that went out the window months ago when we ordered a smaller goose to feed five of us.

It’s all very odd and I bet millions, like me, will be feeling kind of numb and nonplussed today.

The goose didn’t even have to feed five. I’ll let my son Harry, who lives in London, tell the story. This is a message he put out to friends on social media – and it will ring bells with countless Westcountry folk...

“My bags were packed. At long last a sense of excitement grew as normality loomed on the horizon. I imagined the welcoming faces of my family as I flung open the door of the Somerset cottage my parents have barely left for nine months. I imagined fresh country air filling my lungs and flushing out the city pollution. The smell of the neighbouring pine tree forest, the crackling of logs on the fire, the first sip of ale and the sigh of relief I’d heave having, at last, returned home for Christmas.

“Except I wasn’t. ‘If your bag is packed, unpack it!’ Came the order from No 10.

“My largely unsuccessful rebellious side fought with my conscience for a split second, but I obeyed. It was the right decision, of course, but soon the reality of facing a Christmas alone in the city set in.

“Winter nights usually provide London with spectacle. There are Christmas lights and streets are filled with people enjoying the festivities with friends. Jollity, hustle and bustle, carols delivered by famous choirs in the train stations. Smiles illuminate even the grumpiest of commuters.

“Now the lights shine, but darkness prevails. What I see is a city desperately trying to cling to its soul. As I stood in normally busy Northcote Road on Saturday night – now knowing my Christmas fate – the festive lights became a charade. Cynicism got the better of me. Shops were boarded up, pub signs sighed ‘We’ll be back!’ Even Christmas tree sellers were leaving notes at their stands: ‘Not this year. See you in 2021, hopefully’.

“Property for sale signs litter streets as people escape to the country, leaving those of us who remain to wonder if perhaps life by the sea would be a better option. As working from home becomes normal, they’ll have to find some use for those huge office blocks.

“Maybe they’ll turn them into flats and the inner city can flourish in the way it knows best – at being a cultural hub full of food, music, worldclass theatre and art.

“London will adapt and evolve. It’s been through worse, but what it will look like in five years time is anyone’s guess. For now it’s a bleak place in which to spend Christmas alone.

“I’m not the only one flying solo, of course. Many thousands are in the same boat, and rightly so if this new strain of virus is as transmissible as they say.

“So I’ll be taking a virtual seat at the family table this year – and will still enjoy the look of my partner’s face when she opens her present over Facetime.

“But it it is a shame we can’t all be together. Let’s hope it’s the first, and the last, time ever.”

Like everyone, we country-folk want to see our children do well in life and for a great many that means going off to cities to find work and careers.

So loved-ones left behind miss them at the best of times. Which means events like Christmas are all the more important as the annual turn of the calendar sees our economic refugees occasionally return to the roost for a few days.

Christmas, Easter, maybe a few days in summer, a wedding, a birthday... And, in our case this year, the death of Harry’s granny. His visit to see her before she died was the only time we’ve seen our son since January.

It must be the same for countless millions around the world.

If someone had said to me 32 years ago when I held our baby son in my arms: “There will come a time when you’ll hardly see this lad for a year. You’ll be fit and healthy, and so will he – and you’ll love one another as much as ever – but circumstances will mean you won’t see him for a lengthy period...”

My imagination would’ve gone wild. Was he going to be kidnapped by terrorists? Held in a foreign jail, perhaps? Maybe he’d be caught up in a war? Or perhaps he’d work in some ice-bound Arctic research station? You know, near to where Father Christmas lives...

Well, there was only one present many of us wanted from the bearded sleigh-driver this year, and that was to see our families.

Let us pray the Christmas Elves have got that sorted for 2021.

There was only one present many wanted this year, and that was to see our families