The papers and the internet are awash at the moment with
words of wisdom on why Christmas is so awful: the queues, the excess, Black
Friday, Cyber Monday and new kid on the block Panic Saturday. Just as much
has been written about why Christmas is brilliant: the giving and receiving of
gifts, the socialising and the spiritual aspects.
I have sympathy with elements of both camps. I hate
cooking, for instance, but I love a well-heeled mince pie, and I don’t enjoy
shopping but love wrapping presents. Then, of course, there is ample
opportunity for one of my favourite pastimes: writing lists.
But one of the best things about the festive season is that
we have implicit permission to do things that we don’t do at any other time of
the year – and I don’t only mean kissing secret crushes under the mistletoe. For me, it means ignoring the clock, sleeping until I wake
and going to bed when I’m tired; and eating when I’m hungry, whether or not it is an
official mealtime. It means watching cheesy films and TV specials without
feeling guilty; playing boardgames and cards with my children, even though
they’re both in their twenties, just because it’s fun and no one has to worry
about being cool at Christmas; and putting our heads together over a jumbo
crossword or 1,000-piece jigsaw. I’m talking about reading and listening to the radio, adding
to a scrapbook or rediscovering the joys of a colouring book.
Most of all, though, I love being able to sit and do
nothing, even if just for an hour or so. At this time of year, instead of rushing around in
the bright lights of retail, we should be turning inwards and if not exactly
hibernating at least slowing down and making time for reflection and
contemplation.
