Christmas flapping

24 Dec

This week has been a fine mix of sleeplessness, indecision, anxiety and pre-Christmas drunkeness. I’ve been woken at night – not by the baby amazingly – but by brandy racing through my blood and a keen dose of general festive worry. Like Hamlet, I fret a lot but am so indecisive I fail to do anything about it. Here are the things that have been keeping me up in the wee small hours:

Why did I forget my father’s birthday this week? Why have I made it up to him by buying some fudge and a Johnny Cash CD for the fourth year running?

When will I understand the notion of relaxing at Christmas? I would like to sit on the sofa with the family, watch ET and get merry without looking around and thinking “Clutter, clutter, clutter, you are the bane of my life. It is Christmas. Go on, give me a really good present and just disappear out of this house.”

I’ve bought ten mangoes for chutney making at great expense (firm and green) that have all gone mouldy. When will I just give in to the fact that, like ironing, I will never have time to make fucking chutney. I don’t even like it that much, and am pretty sure my family aren’t that crazy for it either.

Why have I bought my aunt Violet Creams for the fifth year running?

Will I remember to eat the mince pie that the middle child (great believer) has left out for Father Christmas? Will I also remember to wrap the stocking presents in different paper to everything else. Either that or I’ll make up some rubbish story such as “Ooh, Father Christmas must shop in Poundland too.”

When will I stop buying Christmas cards, writing them, then failing to send them?

Why did I tip the taxi driver £20 for driving me south of the river? Must not get drunk in the festive hysteria and become over amorous with strangers.

When will I read about the problems in Syria so that I can have a conversation that goes beyond “Who knows what is going to happen? It’s not looking good though.” Ok, not strictly a Christmas problem, but it plays on my mind like “Must read up on Mandela before he dies” and “Must study son’s globe because I’m still not sure where loads of countries are in relation to each other.” (The problem being that his atlas was made in 1938 and still refers to our former colonies by their slave names – hello Rhodesia…)

When am I going to stop feeling guilty about giving most of my Christmas presents from my grandmother straight to charity? She died eight years ago.

It’s December. That’s one month away from January, cut-off date for my tax return. Dear HMRC, for the eleventh year running I regret to inform you that I’ve eaten my receipts.

Happy Christmas to one and all.


2 Responses to “Christmas flapping”

  1. Máire Flynn December 24, 2011 at 10:45 pm #

    I like violet creams actually.

    • mothersruined December 24, 2011 at 10:49 pm #

      Me too, but I’m not sure that my aunt does. Happy Christmas to you!

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