Twenty-four

– Well, here we are.
– Sorry?
– Christmas Eve.
– Yes; of course.
– It all seems to have flown by.
– I suppose it has. A little faster each year.
– A whirl of rushing around, trying to fit too much in, spending too much money, eating too much food.
– It somehow seems a little pointless. At least in the sense that we are missing the point.
– We are only human. We have something we want to celebrate, so we go all out to be as festive as possible. We miss the mark.
– It is difficult to have the courage to setttle for something more modest and say, this is enough: we can be happy with less.
– At least our motives are (mostly) honest. At least we strive to be happy, even if things don't always work out and at times the season brings its own stresses and difficulties. At least we try.

Twenty-three

– You look exhausted.
– I should say so. I've spent all day wrapping presents.
– All day?
– All day!
– As in, from first thing this morning to last thing this evening?
– You can be very literal sometimes. But certainly hours. Hours of wrapping presents. In all sorts of shapes, not just the easy ones.
– Some presents can be very awkward.
– Exactly. Cylinders are particularly annoyng.
– But nowhere as bad as bottles, with tapering necks.
– Or spheres! Spheres are impossible! How are you meant to wrap a sphere?
– You could put it in a box.

Twenty-two

A short walk in the local country park this afternoon, through the woods and along the river, where everything looked a little grey and subdued and slightly muddy underfoot. And along to the formal gardens, stripped bare of autumn's late blooms, with a few splashes of colour in the greenhouse to brighten the gloom.

I stopped off at the café for a cup of tea and a mince pie, the first of the season. At least, the first proper-sized one, having had a miniature pie at the work Christmas dinner. (Rather miserly, in my opinion, not to get a full-sized specimen, but what can you do?) 

There is something unique about mince pies, a combination of tastes and textures which conjures up Christmas in a way that nothing else can. Except maybe Christmas pudding . Or even Christmas cake. Basically the same ingredients packaged differently, but it somehow works.

Twenty-one

– The end is in sight.
– Sorry? The end?
– You begin to feel that you've broken the back of the preparations. Presents are all purchased and squirreled away for the big day. The food shopping is practically done.
– It is? Your food shopping is done?
– Practically. At least, I have got to the stage where I have enough food and drink in the house to last me a week. Or two.
– That's impressive.
– Other than the turkey.
– Well, I guess turkey is a little overrated. Always nice to try something different.
– I've got the potatoes. And sprouts. And all that kind of stuff. Even stuffing. It's just the turkey that's missing. As a fall back, I have a large selection of cheeses.
– And crackers?
– Would you recommend crackers?
– They generally help. As does the turkey.

Twenty

A day off work. A chance to get a few things done: a visit to the supermarket; a bit of tidying (mainly of the freezer, to make room for additional supplies); picking up parcels at the post office; but mainly sitting in traffic, wondering why everyone insists on doing their Christmas shopping at exactly the same time.

There was some time in the afternoon to take a short walk across the common and around the lake; but the skies were rapidly turning murky, with rain showers threatening and finally arriving. Not particularly cold, but grey and damp. Not much chance of snow at this rate.

Nineteen

– Well, that's the last day at work done and dusted. Now I can just put my feet up and relax and wait for Christmas.
– Apart from actually preparing for the day itself.
– I suppose so. But after a while you get into a routine. It all becomes second nature.
– Does it?
– I find it best to keep things in perspective. Keep it all as simple as possible. Live modestly, and all that.
– I thought you were more into splashing out lavishly and eating as much as possible.
– In my earlier years, perhaps I was known for living life to the full. But as one gets older and wiser, one begins to appreciate that it is less about quantity than quality.
– But you seem to have cupboards crammed with festive treats such as mince pies, stollen, panettone and Christmas cake, not to mention countless packs of nuts and crisps and all manner of nibbles.
– Well, you never know when guests might drop by.

Eighteen

A week to go. I always find this an odd time, this week between my wildly frenetic birthday celebrations and the even greater hullabaloo of Christmas Day. The lull before the storm, albeit a lull filled with rushing hither and thither, with trying to complete final preparations and to start things hitherto completely forgotten. There is the niggling concern of whether I have bought too many presents or not enough, of whether I have been scrupulously even-handed or shamefully lop-sided, of whether I have focused too much on some trivial tasks (gifts for the family) while neglecting more important ones (food for the family).

At least I have only one day left at work before the festivities. But that itself creates a pressure, as I consider all that needs to be done in the next few days. Perhaps I need to compile a few lists, with everything carefully organised and costed in terms of my time and energy, so that I can get through the coming week as efficiently and effectively as possible. A Gantt chart would be ideal: tasks, timelines, dependencies, resource requirements, milestones. This would be the perfect solution to make things literally breeze along. Only, given I never quite manage to create them successfully at work, it doesn't seem all that likely that I will manage any better at home.