My mind just idly wandered to the question of what time it
was in Sydney, NSW. 4.15 on Christmas morning.
It had me remembering my childhood, and how I used to wake into
the cold, dark silence of the 6am
slot, and then go in search of my presents. Sometimes they were as close as a
sack at the end of my bed; sometimes I had to search further afield and find
them stacked under the Christmas tree.
I would then spend the next two hours revelling in them –
eating at least one item from the chocolate selection box (Christmas was almost
the only time I had chocolate,) reading some of the obligatory Rupert Bear
annual, trying on the new item of clothing, becoming impatient because it was
too early to go out and kick the new football around... As soon as it was fully
light I would wake my parents with a cup of tea, and Christmas went rapidly
into decline. There was still the hearty breakfast and Christmas lunch to come –
and I admit, I was very partial to a turkey dinner – but that was about the end
of it.
Christmas was never a family affair in my house, it was
about me living the magic and expectation of the days leading up to it, and
then the brief thrill of Christmas morning spent mostly on my own. Christmas
lunch was about the only thing we did together in which I felt I had any stake.
Some time in the afternoon we would visit, or be visited by, friends of my
parents for Christmas tea. Mr and Mrs Greenwood, bless ’em. It was always
salad, and I disliked salad. Then I would spend the hours of Christmas night
sitting in the corner of a stiflingly hot and smoky room, listening to the
grown ups talking grown up trivia. Going to bed on Christmas night was the
final, depressing descent into disappointment. Now there was another year to
wait for the brief, solitary magic to come around again.
I wonder whether that’s why I grew up to be such an
anti-social git, constantly questioning the nature of existence and my own
place in it. Maybe the solitary Christmas was just the right thing for JJ to
grow up with. Put me on the right path, so to speak. Maybe it’s even why I feel
so connected to the Woman in America
at the moment. You won’t understand that bit. Sorry.
Don't mind me. Hope everybody has a wonderful Yule.
3 comments:
You see jeff, it seems to me that you have a certain amount of guilt towards yourself regarding the fact you like your own company, you shouldn't! Why are you striving to be somebody that you perceive society wants to be? If you feel like being a miserable git... Then be one, we are only living for ourselves, oh and me for you and you for me!! You see, the fact is I have been forced into a christmas day I would really rather not partake in. I would far rather come and share your christmas cake with you! So jeff...my point is have a lovely day doing exactly what you want, after all it is christmas day!! Y
It isn't that I feel any guilt for liking my own company, more that I'm getting just a tiny bit too much of it at the moment. And I'm certainly not trying to match society's expectations. I'm a willing outlaw from society for reasons that I can easily justify. If ever we have a few hours to talk, and if you're interested, I'll explain it in detail.
How nice it would have been to have you share my cake on Christmas Day, but I recon it'll be around for a while yet.
And you never mentioned the ditty. That was one of my better ones, you miserable git!
OK, Sarah, I'm bemused. I trust people and take things literally, you know? I'm childlike in that respect.
Why am I saying this? Because life is just a night spent in the drunk tank?
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