A very different Christmas
A middle-aged Londoner reflects on a Christmas of firsts.
Dear Diary (I mean you, you beautiful person, you know that right? Thank you for being here to listen to my rambles),
It’s been a month since my last confess, I mean, entry. I spent more time than I care to admit in Twixmas (that time between Christmas and NYE when you, so they say, have nothing to do except cosy up on the sofa eating Christmas chocolates and reading books. They, the ones doing the saying, have obviously never met my Boxing Day onwards for it’s anything but quiet and relaxed. Surely that’s the case for everyone with multiple family members to visit non?*)* writing and rewriting the opening line** to a piece, in my head, and somehow, never quite putting fingertips to keyboard.
Christmas was very different…
Christmas was…good. Very lovely. But it did threaten to be a bit of a disaster for a mo, and it WAS very different, lots of firsts. Just over a week before Christmas, still with the house being dug up to find a pesky leak, Horatio moved out. He moved to South London!!!! To a place that’s about five minutes’ walk from my childhood home and where my sister still lives. What a cheek eh? Way to tell your mother you have well and truly had enough of her company. Tut. Then again, he seems to have been round loads since he left, for one reason or another…I think he’s checking in on me, making sure I’m okay, which I am. I did have a moment where I thought, with a wry smile “It’s funny, I’ve been so bloody nice to borderline everyone, my whole life and…it’s not made a difference, I’m still alone.” But of course, I’m not really alone – I have beautiful family and friends and I’m making much more of an effort to be in touch with them and see them this year.
So, yes…Horatio moves out, the downstairs looks as though a bomb has hit it. Horatio takes his mattress but not the disassembled base, which is propped up against a wall in one of the bedrooms alongside my disassembled base and my mattress because I got a bed delivered, a few days before Christmas, and the company didn’t include taking away the old bed! So that’s one of the spare bedrooms out of action, and don’t even get me started on the other one. Let’s just say, I’ve got A LOT of sorting out to do.
Over Christmas the ex and Alex (the daughter) normally move in for a few days but this year, because of the general chaos (The Chaos), they didn’t. Add in the fact that Horatio moved out! And you start to get a good picture of how different this Christmas was. We spent Christmas Eve with the Ex’s parents but, because my bladder was playing up (I’d had accidents two out of the three nights I’d slept in my new bed) I didn’t feel comfortable sleeping there. So, at about 10pm I left and came home to The Chaos.
Of course I felt sad to be on my own, but surprisingly I also felt quite calm. I finished off a series I was watching on Netflix and went to bed not too late. And in the morning, I just had a gentle time, pottering about, painting candles (that were to be Christmas presents…there’s nothing like the thrill of leaving things to the last minute eh) – it was actually quite lush! Odd but good. I’m learning that I’ll be okay on my own. I knew it really but, I’m quickly gathering up my evidence to back it up.
I feel very fortunate that, well into my middle-age (12 years, to be precise) my children still choose to spend Christmas with me, I’ve not yet spent one without them and given that they’re 33 and 31, I think that’s pretty good going. Alex is getting married this year and has bought a house with her man so, I dunno, things could be changing in the next year or so. So, in a way, this Christmas where everything was the same but also different, was a good practice.
Being greedy and having it all
Another first, I split Christmas Day between the in-laws and my sister, heading over to her’s in the evening for a supper of ham and mash. Yum. The kids came with, but the ex joined us on Boxing Day for the official Greenwich Christmas. I know lots of people split the day like that, and perhaps you do, but I prefer to just loll around after my Christmas meal, snoozing, watching TV, playing boardgames or, fingers crossed, charades but, this was the first Christmas without mummy and it felt important to be together on Christmas Day.
Course, because I hadn’t had everyone descending on me, I didn’t have the annual gloom when they all left, so that was a big bonus of The Chaos.
The power of make-up
I’d been thinking about going to Paris for New Year’s Eve (what WAS I thinking!?!?) but in the end I stayed in London and went out with my sister to one of her locals. A couple of days before, my International Make-Up Artist friend, Neusa, and I had shot*** some content for my “A middle-aged Londoner” Instagram account – a couple of easy bold looks for NYE, and I decided to try to recreate one of the looks for my night out. It seems I did a good job because apparently, I looked like a goddess! A beautiful, delectable, luscious dream of a woman. At this point, I couldn’t help laughing and asking the silver-tongued lothario whether he’d taken an ecstasy tablet, or something, because he was coming out with all the adjectives. Lol. He said that if I didn’t score that night then (I actually don’t know then what, he didn’t say). This was before he’d thrown his hat in the ring, at this stage he was pointing out how many fit men there were who’d be interested in me apparently. And this made me think, why do men think that just because we’ve “made an effort” that we’ve done it for them? Why do they think we want to “score?” Do not get me wrong, I love love LOVE to flirt but, I had no intention of getting off with someone that night, I was out with my sister to see out a shitty year and welcome in a new (hopefully less shitty) new year. Men? Can you answer that? Do you assume a woman who is wearing make-up is doing so for your benefit? You can tell me; I won’t bite your head off! Tee he.
A very wet start to the year
I’d had a beer and a Baby Guinness (given to me by said man, he’d been sulking because I’d said nothing was going to happen between us, and I think this was a peace offering. On reflection, it was quite stupid to accept a drink already in a glass off of a stranger who has been trying to get off with you and you’ve rebuffed but, turned out okay and I must say, was rather delectable, to use one of his many descriptors.) and woke on New Year’s Day feeling surprisingly fuzzy-headed. Man, I need to get practicing, get my tolerance up (or is this just menopause?). My sister and I went for a long walk around Greenwich Park, down into Greenwich and through the covered market, past The Cutty Sark and along the river front and then back up home. And even though it was pissing with rain the whole time, nothing could dampen my spirits and my excitement and hope for the year ahead.
As I looked through photos to share here, I was struck by just how much joy, happiness, warmth, and love my Christmas was, and my life IS full of. I suppose the moral of the tale is (if there is a moral), the little glimmers are there, for most of us, notice them, grab hold of them, and cherish them. And spend time with people you love who bring you joy innit.
Listen, I KNOW Christmas is so…last year’s news yeh but still, tell me, how was yours? What did you do? Do you go into making overdrive too – gifting every poor sod whatever odd thing you’ve produced this time? What about NYE? Are you a lover or a hater?
Next time, a January round-up and a few other musings.
With love
xoxo
Susie
*If you managed to follow that sentence Bravo! No seriously, please explain in the comments what on earth I’m on about as I lost myself! Pah ha. Write as you speak, they**** say, well, this IS how I speak, long, excited sentences. So there you go. Anyway…
**And it went a liddle like this “It was Christmas Eve babe, and I was all alone.” Pah ha. That’s as far as I got. Partly because I needed to go and check what comes next in the song (I’m honestly rubbish at lyrics, it’s like I’m French singing along as best I can in English), and also because as an opener, which is what I planned for it to be, I thought it sounded rather depressing and all “woe is me” which you’ve had a bit too much of from me of late. And actually, I had a bloody marvellous time – as you know if you’ve read this entry innit.
***Makes us sound very profesh doesn’t it. That is laughable. But…I’m getting to grips with the fact that I won’t be good until I actually do things, many times. So no, it was a bit slapdash but, we got the job done.
****They’re bloody know it alls aren’t they, those Theys. By the way, I have no idea what the correct grammar on that sentence is and as it barely makes sense, I doubt there’s any point getting Word to check. Soz.
I enjoy your writing!