Festive Wisdom

So there it went, faster than an Austrian out of a balloon, the Christmas holidays have zipped by and we are now in the most miserable month of the year, January. The month that generates the most divorces, unwise career moves and (in some cases) suicides is upon us. Happy New Year!

However before we embrace the gloom and realise that going cold turkey on booze and chocolate on the 1^st January is a stupid idea that rarely pans out beyond the first couple of weeks I am taking a quick look back at the important things I learnt during the brief festivities.

Indulge me a little if you will, it’ll put your mind off the fact that the back pain you’ve noticed is in fact your liver screaming for mercy and that the shaking is just a craving for even a Strawberry Cream from the now empty Quality Street tin.

So, in no particular order:

      1.    When it comes to presents I’m still a kid. Out of all the sensible presents I received, the ones that I keep coming back to are the remote controlled helicopter, the yo-yo, and the magic trick where the bug disappears. All of these things took me back to being 8 years old again. Joyful.

      2.     When it comes to presents, sensible is the best way forward. OK, so there’s a balance and I get equal joy from socks and shirts, and slippers, and smellies, and beer. Lots of beer. I think it comes down to the fact that it saves me from buying them myself. You know, that self satisfied feeling when you consider that you won’t have to buy any shower gel until at least March. Wonderful.

      3.     Invite less people for Christmas dinner. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely to have the family over, everyone coming together and laughing and eating and singing, and……well, no that’s not the reality is it?

I mean, in a larger house where we had a staff of chefs, butlers, and housekeepers maybe, but the cold hard reality is that I am usually to be found outside freezing my arse off on Christmas morning, cleaning garden furniture so that it can be brought into our comparatively modest lounge so that everyone can sit down. Of course by the time I get inside my efforts are rewarded by the fact that everyone have sat themselves on the nice chairs and I’m perched on a stool at the far end of the room wondering where all the sprouts have gone. We didn’t do that this Christmas.

No, this Christmas it was just the present and future Mrs Haywards for dinner (the latter of whom was entertainingly hungover) and it was easy and blissful. Yes, we saw family later at the outlaws’ house and that was great, but not having a houseful for dinner at Chez Hayward meant that I didn’t get frostbite and I could gorge myself on sprouts until my heart’s content.

      4.     Biscuits are the new Milk Tray. The previous Christmas we received, from numerous sources, about twenty-three boxes of Milk Tray. As welcome as they were we didn’t really know why we received so much Milk Tray in particular. I guess there was an offer on, although amusingly every box was of a different shape and size. This year, not one offering of Milk Tray emerged from underneath any shiny wrapping paper, although we did receive biscuits. Many tins of biscuits.

Initially I thought this to be curious, as I’ve never been bought biscuits in my life. Then I realised the genius of it. Biscuits do not suffer at the hands of the New Year purge. They are acceptable to keep so that I am now well stocked in biscuits until at least the middle of February when I deign to consider the Custard Cream or anything with fruit in it. Beware, because if I don’t know what to get you next Christmas I will be following suit and buying biscuits, by the droves. So, if you’re not a friend of the shortcake finger then tell me now. That’s not a euphemism by the way.

      5.     Rock Lobster is a very long song indeed. 6 minutes and 50 seconds to be precise, which I hadn’t realised. You see, as I mentioned, we saw family later on Christmas Day and one of the younger members dragged me off the sofa to play on Just Dance or Let’s Dance, or some such Wii based dancing game. I perused the options available and realised quickly that I am less au fait with current chart hits then I had realised. I therefore plumped from something I knew of from back in the day.

On came 'Rock Lobster' and off I went, expending all my energy in the first minute, not realising that there were still another six agonising minutes of swaying, and hopping, and jumping to go. Given this was early evening and I’d been drinking since 10am (well, it was Christmas Day) I’m surprised I could even move and more surprised still that all the peanuts and crisps and cheese from the night before didn’t bring on some sort of snack food based seizure.

Suggestions that “I do another one” were ignored as I sweatily resumed my place in some comfortable furnishings and enjoyed my father-in-law’s interpretation of 'Jailhouse Rock', which should have scored many marks for enthusiasm and entertainment but lost a shedload for technique.

So that, as they say, is that. All of Christmas in a nutshell. I can now hibernate for at least eight months until I see a hint of tinsel in a shop or the merest suggestion that Noddy Holder is about to announce “It’s Christmas!” through a shop’s PA system.

Now, in the meantime, what the hell am I going to do with all these un-drunk bottles of Mulled Wine and Advocaat?