Mistletoe and Whine

Christmas is an event which really divides opinion. Ironic really, when you consider it’s built on traditions which are intended to bring people together. But there are some people who hate it, they refuse to let go and embrace the holiday spirit. Even with the CUB team, these people exist- yes, I’m looking at you Music.

Fortunately. I am not one of these people. Not the event itself any more, but the build-up. And the preparation. Anyone who knows me knows my penchant for planning and organising, so you can imagine just how much joy I manage to squeeze out of Christmas. There are weddings which have less thought and planning put into them than Christmas chez McAulay. Obviously I spontaneously gain this militant obsession with the holidays. Oh no. It’s genetic and reinforced from twenty years of watching and listening to my Mother micro-manage every tiny detail. Of course, since I was about 13 I started to get more involved, but over the past few years and since I moved out- it’s reached a whole new level. We clash and argue over the napkin rings, the order of proceedings, wines we’re serving. And that’s not to mention the great Cauliflower Cheese debacle of 2012 (For any interested parties, she was pro I was con. I lost. But honestly, if you can’t put gravy on something, it has no business being in a Christmas dinner). Lots of things that- in the grand scheme of Christmas- probably don’t matter all that much, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her have her way with everything.

But despite all this hype, and the passion I put into my antics at this time of year. I remain a Festive Purist. Whilst I enjoy Christmas, there is enough of a build-up already without trying to start it as soon as the Halloween decorations come down. And as someone who works in retail, this couldn’t be more real. My last 4 weekends have already been spent being bombarded with festive songs and carols and pushing the seasonal menu- spoiler alert: There’s cranberry sauce on everything. And yet, just when you think I’d be starting to crack. When I’d heard enough of those sleigh bells jingling and ring-ting-tingling too. THAT is when the magic starts to kick in for me and I begin to really love it.

And no. Before it gets suggested, not because I’ve been hitting the mulled wine already and I certainly wouldn’t have cracked open the festive gin. The big difference is that it hits December. The time when the magical switch flips and I suddenly find myself turning into Buddy the Elf. That’s it. The only secret to get me from one Grinch to the other. Not love. Or giving. Or friendship. Simply turning the page in the calendar gives my synapses that extra kick they need and I shift from jeering to jolly.

So join me, all ye who claim to hate Christmas. Feel comfort in my company, anyone’s welcome. So long as when December actually hits you, too, drop the disdain and we can all go to Winter Wonderland together.


Bah Humbug Pug. Image by russavia
Bah Humbug Pug. Image: russavia


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