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.

Seventeen

– Have you survived your birthday?
– Yes, just about. But does it have to be a matter of surviving?
– At your age, I'm afraid so. Just be thankful.
– Of?
– Not being any older. Although it is something to be aware of this time next year.
– You're hardly inspiring me with much confidence.
– I think there's no point in deluding oneself in these situations. You are not getting any younger. In fact, you do look somewhat more anxious and worn since I last saw you.
– Yesterday?
– Well, clearly the advancing years have taken their toll. Over night. But it's never too late to reclaim your lost youth.
– How do you mean?
– A healthy lifestyle, plenty of exercise, umpteen portions of fresh fruit and vegetables, complete abstinence from strong drink; that sort of thing.
– And you think I would have a chance?
– I wouldn't like to put any money on it.

Sixteen

It is the evening before my birthday. Hardly a rare event: it comes around this time each year. And it seems to come around quicker each year. Which is presumably a sign of advancing age.

For weeks you try to prepare yourself for the oncoming anniversary, determined to appreciate the last throes of your current age before it is irreversibly incremented. But there is too much else going on at this time of year to be able to devote much time for contemplation.

So now it is the last hour and a bit before the fateful moment; and then suddenly you are a year older, and will mull over it for a day or so before being swept on by the business of daily life and the frantic run-in to Christmas.

Fifteen

– So how did the concert go?
– Well, there were the usual carols and other festive pieces. And even some audience participation.
– Were the audience meant to participate?
– Yes, fortunately. I'm all for a democratic approach to these things, but I suppose it can get tiresome to have the star performers drowned out by a rowdy mob.
– I thought you were one of the performers?
– Indeed. Just as part of the local choir. Not the star, obviously. Well, not necessarily. Although it has been remarked that, without my contribution, the choir in some indefinable way would be somewhat diminished.
– You sing particularly loudly?
– I try to sing with a certain intensity of expression and feeling.
– But loudly?
– Well, the audience like to get their money's worth.

Fourteen

It has been a  traumatic week in politics. Brexit doesn't appear to be any closer to getting resolved, either one way or another. The stalemate may continue for years at this rate; certainly the arguments will continue for years. For decades, more than likely, before all the rules and regulations are agreed, everything is running smoothly again and the economy is back on course.

On the plus side - goodness knows what the plus side is any more. Theresa May is somehow still Prime Minister, but possibly wishing she wasn't. People seem keen to oust her yet is anyone capable of doing any better? And who would really want her job? Really?

We are in one of those knife edge situations where something momentous, and probably disastrous, may happen at any moment, not through any strategically crafted plan but on the random flip of a coin, by an accident with unforeseeable consequences.

But at least it's nearly Christmas. Hard to believe it has come round so quickly. Only two days at work for me next week and then I'm done. A long break till January, which I sorely need.

Thirteen

– You survived the office party, then?
– Barely. I find these events traumatic at the best of times.
– And this one was worse?
– There was a Murder Mystery entertainment.
– Excellent! Did you get murdered? Or were you doing the murdering?
– We were merely sleuthing. But it was all quite convoluted.
– Murders usually are. Typically because the murderer wishes to remain undiscovered.
– Exactly. There is always so much subterfuge. Not to mention red herrings thrown liberally around. And shifty characters who seem far from trustworthy. Why can't people just be open and honest about these things?
– I suppose it is a sad reflection on our times. But on the other hand it wouldn't be much of a mystery.

Twelve

– Not sure I'm in the mood for the office Christmas party tonight.
– Any reason in particular, or just your general antipathy towards any form of social event?
– Well, clearly there is that. I have to work hard to maintain my reputation as a curmudgeonly old Scrooge. It doesn't come naturally.
– You seem seem to have got it off to a tee.
– Thank you. It's good to hear that the years of effort have not been wasted. But things have been frantic recently, and sometimes you just want a quiet evening, preferably not in the company of work colleagues and senior management.
– You should look on it as an opportunity to break down barriers and make new contacts, and potentially enhance your standing within the company.
– Or at the very least, just enjoy the first turkey dinner of the season.

Eleven

Flying back this evening from Toulouse via Brussels. As expected, there has been no time to experience the vibrant cultural heritage of these two great cities other than at the airport duty-free shops. Toulouse has a nice range of violet gifts. Either they grow the stuff there or they are just excessively fond of the colour. Brussels has its chocolate. And possibly beer.

I hate to reduce things to clichéd stereotypes, but I can only go by what is on display. Clearly, this kind of stuff sells. It is no better at Manchester Airport, where they seem to do a roaring trade in souvenirs of London.

Ten

– France? What are you doing in France?
– Just a short trip. You know how it is - out one day, back the next.
– Well, no. I don't tend to do day trips to France.
– Hardly a day trip. More like two days. Almost.
– Even so, it must be nice to get away before the Christmas rush.
– Afraid it's for work. You know how it is - airport, hotel, industrial park, airport, home. No time to enjoy the delights that France has to offer.
– But there is still the inescapable ambiance, the certain je ne sais quoi that says you are somewhere exotic.
– Even at the airport?
– Maybe not at the airport.

Nine

At last, some decent weather today: dry and sunny and not too cold. A welcome change from the leaden skies and heavy showers of the last few weeks. I was out in the centre of Manchester, looking at the market stalls in the quieter quarters, away from the throngs that make it impossible to stroll nonchalantly around the more popular attractions. (Rather, you have to be prepared to shoulder barge your way through the crowds around the bratwurst stalls, showing no mercy other than to the elderly, infirm and small infants, though to be honest if they insist on turning up at peak periods they need to take their chances along with the rest of us.)

Eight

I almost forgot to write something.

You would have thought it was second nature by now. But sometimes things get in the way. Not particularly urgent things, but tonight it was more the need to gradually wind down and get ready for going to bed. Usually the process takes only a few minutes, as I find myself glued to the TV till I suddenly remember I promised myself an early night because of work the next day. And then after some frantic cat pacifying and toothbrushing I rush to get to bed and wonder why I don't sleep well. Tonight I thought I would forsake the frenzied excitement of Match of the Day and instead have a peaceful half hour listening to relaxing things on the Internet before gently wending my way upstairs.

But then at the last moment I remember I have to write this and the tranquility is shattered.

Seven

– A week gone already.
– Yes. Can't wait.
– Can't wait? For Christmas?
– Definitely. All the preparations in hand, nothing more to do but put my feet up, get out the sherry and mince pies, and settle down in front of a few classic seasonal movies.
– Really? Everything done already? On the seventh of December?
– When you're organised, it's not a big deal. A quick trip around the shops. A pile of presents wrapped under the tree. Fridge stocked up till the middle of January.
– I'm glad to hear it... It makes me feel somewhat -
– Indequate?
– Well, perhaps a little slow off the mark.
– Not to worry. Have you thought about stuffing the turkey yet?
– What turkey?
– Peeling the sprouts?

Six

St Nicholas Day. One of those great feast days which are sadly completely ignored in these parts, as folk stubbornly refuse to hand out presents to one another for the eminently sensible reason that the Christmas shopping rush would have to begin three weeks earlier, so presumably sometime in late August.

A half day at work today, giving me a chance to browse the local Christmas markets. I seem to have been visiting the markets for weeks already, somehow never tiring of seeing endless stalls of both traditional and sometimes quite peculiar gifts, decorations and foodstuffs. Clearly, the biggest draw for me is the exotic edible delicacies, ranging from currywurst to tartiflette and Yorkshire Pudding wraps. The glühwein can't really compete.

Five

– So you survived lunch?
– Yes, the first Christmas meal of the season. Although I kept off the turkey to save myself for the big day. And without turkey and Christmas pudding it somehow doesn't feel very festive.
– More like a routine lunch with your work colleagues?
– I suppose. Though we rarely all go out together. And would normally settle for a quick sandwich somewhere cheap and preferably cheerful, rather than three courses in a half decent restaurant.
– And wouldn't all be wearing garish jumpers festooned with reindeer and twinkling lights?
– Indeed. Perhaps I should have worn one myself. But my taste in clothes is somewhat -
– Sombre?
– Muted, I would have said. Though perhaps at times it does verge on the funereal.
– I'm sure that's more typical of how the original St Nicholas would have dressed. Sackcloth was all the rage in those days.

Four

– So, is it because you haven't actually bought anything yet?
– No, I've bought a few items. Not many, granted, but some.
– But just nothing from the internet?
– Not this year.
– Then...?
– Shops. I've actually gone to shops.
– You mean physical, non-virtual shops?
– ...Yes.
– Well, that's novel. How did you find them?
– They're all over the place. I mean, clearly no longer literally all over the place, but if you go out and about you can hardly fail to see them.
– But ones that are useful for buying thoughtful Christmas presents? As opposed to newspapers, or toothpaste, or cat food?
– Yes. Although sometimes you may need to adjust your expectations somewhat and be prepared to give more modest gifts.
– Such as cat food?
– It comes in some interesting flavours nowadays.
– Even so...

Three

Writing this on the train, which is a first for me. Having sworn a solemn oath to write a post each day, it occurs to me that next week I'll be flying to France and (hurriedly) back again. And will be out late at one of many (or at least two) Christmas dinners. So there is a strong chance that I will have no time to post anything or will have no access to the Internet or will be too inebriated to tap the letters into the tiny keyboard in anything like the right order. So either no posts at all or something erratic and possibly colourful.

Perhaps I can prepare a few posts in advance for me to publish with minimal effort.

Or perhaps I can prepare a whole month's posts in advance and save myself a huge amount of effort.

Or, better still, just prepare one decent sized post and publish it one sentence at a time. It would be a good way to build up the suspense. Provided something awesome happens in the final sentence.

Two

The last few weeks before Christmas. Things are becoming hectic.

In a way, they probably shouldn't be. Not for me, at any rate. I don't really have that much to do. Not in terms of buying presents for an enormous list of friends and relatives, or massess of food and drink to cram into the cupboards to keep me stuffed for weeks on end. I feel I must be somewhat below the average, compared with most people, regarding what is expected of me: just a few relatives to buy gifts for, just a few communal meals to host.

This should be a relief, but somehow it never feels so. Given how little I have to organise, I still end up in a panic about how little time there is left. Maybe it is just a reflection of how disorganised I am, taking forever to decide what to do and to get things done. And it doesn't seem to get any easier as the years go by.

Do I need to get something for the cat? Will she notice if I don't?

One

– December again. I don't know where this year has gone.
– Your posts don't give much away.
– I do what I can.
– Very little by the look of it.
– So I thought it would be a good idea to celebrate Advent by writing a post each day.
– Like an Advent calendar?
– Like an Advent calendar.
– But without any windows.
– Not all Advent calendars have windows. Some have pockets.
– Will yours have pockets?
– A little tricky online. Although I could consider something self-adhesive to attach to the screen. Anyway, I managed to buy today a physical Advent calendar to compensate.
– Is it suitably Christmassy?
– It has a reindeer on the front. In a scarf.
– So not a religious one?
– I can't answer for the reindeer.