scrawny
One Mojito, two Gin and Tonics, Three Bacardi Lime Sodas, and a couple of pints of Stella please.
posted
OK, so this may be slightly premature.
Christmas is a-comin'! Not only are the Disney-sponsored lights in Oxford street ablaze, the yearly nice-off to decide who will cover the graveyard shift between 29th-30th December at work has begun (starts with a competition to see who can make the most offers to do it in order to win 'nice' points, gets frostier and frostier as the realisation dawns that, when it comes down to it, nobody has the slightest fucking intention of being in the office before the middle of January and the matter can only be resolved by a fight to the death), and both Bandy's and my mother have started dropping hints about where they would prefer us to spend the yuletide season this year.
I used to think I loved Christmas, on the grounds that getting drunk and getting presents sounds in theory like a great idea. However, since I realised that getting drunk and getting presents actually constitutes a very small part of this particular celebration, I'm starting to wish they'd cancel the whole thing. Bob Cratchett can work the 29th-30th as far as I'm concerned. I shall be too busy trying to make sure my mother has a nice time despite being confronted with the painfully obvious truth that my brother takes drugs, arguing with my sister for refusing to come out of her bedroom when her boyfriend is there, fretting about the fact that my Dad is not only nigh-on impossible to buy presents for but also has contrived to have a birthday (his 60th this year ) five days after Christmas day, so not only do we have to be massively inventive, we have to do it twice in the same week, and keeping the three sets of parents that we now have to deal with happy. I also work just off Oxford street, so by November 9th it's probably safe to say that I hate everybody, and the pitiful lunch hour that I have assigned to the task of buying stocking fillers for my nearest and dearest gets eaten up with the task of viciously beating Japanese tourists who somehow think it is OK to stand stock still in a line on the pavements of our fair capital marvelling at the wonders that the Gap window dressers have managed to conjure up, whilst gesticulating with golfing umbrellas.
Although it doesn't usually any more, Christmas lunch for about three years in a row during my teenage years ended my my brother made my Mum cry, and my Dad called him 'a bloody waste of space'. My sister and I stole the remaining roast potatoes and munched in silence. Having other people - boyfriends, girlfriends, last remaining relatives - only served to worsen the situation, as now it was not only predictable, it was predictably embarassing. My family's bizarre insistence on making everyone open their presents one at a time and the fact that notwithstanding our dysfunction we actually understand each other very well does not help. For example, when I was gifted with the worst (the ABSOLUTE WORST) pair of pyjamas in the world (in THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD) by my ex-boyfriend, my mother and sister, seeing the look on my face which I was doing my best to hide, thought it might be a good idea to force me to try them on and model the aforementioned horrors in front of the entire gathering (some friends of my parents had also popped round at this stage). Always good for a laugh, my mum.
I'm sure it won't be as bad as I think it's going to be….I'm sure…well actually, I'm not sure, as history is not on my side and leopard-print pyjamas don't change their spots (WORST EVER!). Bah humbug.
How is Christmas down your way? Any plans? Restore my faith now people...
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quote:Originally posted by scrawny: My family's bizarre insistence on making everyone open their presents one at a time
Ha, you're not alone on this one Scrawny, my family insist on carefull making sure everyone has a present, everyone unwraps at once, then repeat until left with half the room looking on with envy as the other half still have several presents to go by virtue of having more/better friends, such fun.
quote: How is Christmas down your way? Any plans? Restore my faith now people...
I have to be on call all Christmas and so will be remaining in glamorous Woking, dialling in every day to check our systems are okay. However all being well a friend will be coming to stay, and the plan is to stock up on food, alcohol, DVDs and Xbox games and basically get fat, drunk and goggle eyed from too much gamesplaying/DVD watching. I can't wait personally
posted
I think I've rambled on for quite long enough about how much I love Christmas. But that never stopped me before! This year I'm off work from midday Christmas Eve until the 4th January, thanks to 'work a day over the festive period and get two days free holiday' and a labyrinthine office shift system that I've succesfully navigated.
Christmas Eve, therefore, will be spent on the train to Gloucester to my Grandad's house, lugging presents (I am fully intending to book a day off work to shop in the run up. I adore buying, whether for myself or others, and can even keep a grin on while braving the festive scrum, however tight). The train journey probably won't be that great, packed full of other Londoners escaping, but my Grandad will meet me in his battered green car at the station and whizz me away to the country. Bungalow. There will be a small Christmas tree with stacks of presents in wide radius, tinsel, folding paper lanterns (one a Santa with a fat belly), balloons. My dad will be there, and my brother. I'll go to bed and wake up in the morning with a bulging stocking at the end of my bed which I'll squeeze and open and fall back to sleep.
Christmas day will see the arrival of cousins, one cousin-in-law, baby second cousin (is this the name for the child of a cousin?) who I've never seen, auntie and uncle. Possibly some of their family. We'll sit and chat and drink sherry or sloe gin or other and my dad, grandad and auntie will buzz around the kitchen preparing Christmas dinner. My cousins, brother and I will poke presents and catch up. Probably this year we will take turns at holding the baby, and when it reaches me it will cry. We'll have lunch in the big hallway (special table brought out for the occasion) at about 2pm: turkey and all the trimmings, cooked with precision following my grandad's forethought and schedule. Crackers after the main course; Christmas pudding and mince pies for pudding. Only after the washing up will we have presents. If we can face it, we'll have buffet at about 10, cold meats and crisps and cheese and trifle. And then people will toddle off home and to bed.
On Boxing Day, we'll go to my auntie and uncle's, or maybe this year to my newly wed cousin's. Beef for lunch and more buffet for dinner. My cousin will make extremely rich, impressive puddings. There will definitely be mini sausages; dips; cheese; vol au vents. We will have tree presents from the tree fairy and the children (us) will get packs of three Kinder eggs, and we will play soldiers's legs. As I outlined this excellent game last year, I'll leave the description to that. O, I will win, after losing at Trivial Pursuit.
This year, my mother will pick me up on the 27th and we will go to Wales, to her new cottage in (I imagine) snowy valleys on the border. I have never been before, and am enthusiastic. We will be joined by my mother's partner, her partner's 90 (maybe 91 now!) mother, partner's general family. Last year we danced round the kitchen singing Total Eclipse of the Heart at full banshee wail, so I can't predict this year's events. Apart from the fact that we will undoubtedly have more turkey, and I will get hammered at Scrabble by a 90 nonagerian.
There will be too much alcohol and no religion.
Scrawny, I hope your Christmas goes wonderfully and your faith in the season gets restored.
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posted
Last year London came and stayed over at my flat on Christmas Eve so that Christmas day morning started with a little game called hunt the codeine, assisted by a glass of champagne, which continued after my father had picked us up and taken us back to the family home. It was possibly one of the most chilled Christmasses every, our mood probably rubbing off on our highly overstrung mother and younger sister. It was only slightly marred when we overhead Mum saying in a stressy voice "What are they doing out there, giggling away like fools? They can't be looking for more painkillers can they? How much did they drink last night? " My Christmas tip to you Scrawny: stock up on the Sudafed. Good for many reasons!
posted
I always seem to be in two minds about Christmas. On one hand, I love certain aspects of the build up to Christmas - the kids getting really excited over each and every window opened in their advent calendars; going to buy the tree on the 13th December from the farm up the road (my son invariably picks the slightly bedraggled one that no one else wants because he feels sorry for it); decorating said tree with a glass of wine in hand and cheering when we find that the fairy lights are still working; hanging a Christmas wreath on the front door; going to see B in his Nativity play (especially good now that E is too old for such things) etc etc. The best thing about Christmas for me is Christmas Eve - that's the best day. The excitement, the general feeling of benevolence, looking forward to all that time off work. I also enjoyed going to Midnight Mass although that's not something I do any more, which is a shame.
Then we have the other side of the (chocolate foil wrapped) coin. I also work in a city centre and have to deal with the thronging crowds of Christmas shoppers. Suddenly, just going out to buy a sandwich takes three times longer than it used to. I don't want to hear muzaked Winter Wonderland for the twelvty-hundredth time. I feel guilty that I no longer celebrate Christmas in the way that I was brought up to, i.e. by recognising it as a religious festival/occasion/celebration. I start to feel bad about the sheer 'consumerism' of it all, heightened by the fact that I never know what to give J as a present, knowing that the sentimental, poignant gift I favour would not be as welcomed as the latest Grand Theft Auto game etc etc. Then there's Christmas day itself. I spend it at home with my family and J's mum. It seems to fly by in a blur of cooking and dishwasher loading and disposing of discarded wrapping paper and just over-ness.
However! I am already planning Christmas 2005. As my son will be old enough, I plan to actually go out somewhere nice for Christmas dinner rather than having to cook it myself. I will drink mulled wine until my lips turn purpley blue. I will laugh raucously as I pull crackers. I will probably fall asleep in the car on the way home. In short, I will behave like an off-the-leash-mum. I haven't decided yet whether this is good or bad.
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quote: Since my dad just died I suspect that Christmas will be somewhat flat, this year.
Snap.
I am hoping that we can combine forces with my Mums friend who is lodging since her house fell down, and her daughters. Who I have never met, but the lodger is nice and she never complains about them. And maybe her friends that live around the corner - I think a rowdy party would be an improvement on a quiet "any more sprouts dear?" style lunch with noticible a gap.
I am also looking forward to travelling to Exeter on the Megabus (£6 return!) on christmas eve since I have no fucking holiday allowance left. This is sure to be a delightfull experience!
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posted
I am very sorry to hear your news, Hippychick. You have my sincere sympathy.
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posted
O no! Am very sorry to hear that, Abby. If it's any consolation, I know what it is like to lose a parent close to Christmas and the impact that it can have. So, you know, I hear you.*
*I refrained from the old ((((hugz)))) cos it's a bit handbag and also would have been quite forward of me, seeing how I don't really know you!
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posted
Abby, you have my condolences too. How close is the pub? It may be raining now but a walk in the rain has pub at the end! Also, this may cheer you up - I saw Gwen Stefani on tele the other night and she really reminded me of you!
scrawny
One Mojito, two Gin and Tonics, Three Bacardi Lime Sodas, and a couple of pints of Stella please.
posted
Sorry Hippy and Abby.
To make you smile - Discodamage's amazing interweb skills found this. Although the items on display are not half as horrific as my own pyjamas, they are good for a laugh.
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posted
This year I can honestly say for the first time ever, I'm looking forward more to the day itself than the alcoholic advent-calendar of piss ups, parties and long lunches which precedes it. I can't help but let out a little sigh when I think of the boozy build up to Christmas. This feeling gets stronger with each passing yuletide and this year I feel as though I have to square my shoulders and march towards December like a prize-fighter, ready to take it on the chin. I've no doubt I'll enjoy it well enough once we get down to battle but, right now, I'd rather skip the first 23 days of the month and be at home with my parents on Christmas Eve.
Being a boy, I don't see as much of my mum and dad as I should and, even though I love them and they're perfectly pleasant company, I still find myself wanting to get back to London a.s.a.p. whenever I visit them. I put this down to some teenage instinct: part of me needing to escape so I can do things I shouldn't without getting "done". Which is pretty bent really as I'm 32, and don't do anything of an evening I couldn't do in front of my parents – except post on a bulletin board of course, which, let's be fair, I don't do very often (or very well) anymore.
I don't feel like that at Christmas, though. It's the only time of the year I spend more than a day or so with my parents and it's the only visit when I don't feel like I'm missing out on something (something I probably don't want to do anyway).
So, rather than looking forward to free drinks, I'm excited about meeting my Dad's new dog. He's a touchy subject, the new dog. The last one had become a surrogate child for my father, plus an excuse to never do anything my mum wanted. For 16 years his faithful border collie followed my father everywhere and wailed like a waily-thing whenever they were separated. I could never imagine either the dog or the man living without the other, sometimes joking, somewhat fucking stupidly, that I hoped they'd both die peacefully in their sleep on the same night.
Thankfully, they didn't. She, the dog, died this year. She went into a fit and my Dad could barely hold her down when they took her to the vet. Apparently, said vet spent a good fifteen minutes fannying around before putting the poor animal out of her misery. Dad said he was all set to kill her with his bare hands (the dog, not the vet, but I think it crossed his mind to do them both), it was so disturbing. Afterwards, my father drove home with his old best friend in the boot of his car and buried her under a tree in the garden. He relayed the experience to me on the phone later that day and, typically unable to relate to the matter on any kind of emotional level, he focused on how tough the tree roots were and how he'd had to cut through them using some kind of super tool with which I'm not familiar. He did later confess that he'd never forgive himself for "clipping the dog around the ear" the day before she died, after she'd growled at a child. I guess you'd have to know my dad to understand the volumes such an admission speaks.
With such a bond between man and dog, and my mother looking forward to life without a canine albatross flying around the place, it came as a great surprise when the old man disappeared to Battersea a few weeks ago and returned with a new best friend. The recent arrival has pissed my Mum off no end but I have to say, I'm looking forward to making her acquaintance (the dog, not the mum) and whipping her into frenzy until she knocks over the Christmas tree
And it isn't just the dog. More than a work outing firing paintballs at greyhounds from a go-cart, more than a wrap party in somewhere called Café Then or Liquid Clunge, I'm looking forward to watching my two year old nephew unwrap his Christmas presents, to falling asleep in front of a blonde film and to reading crap cracker jokes to my parents.
Shopping and gift-giving - despite the status that my current job allegedly confers on me, a London Underground station assistant is paid more. So, my capacity to shop and gift-give is a little circumscribed.
Visiting the family - it's not so much that my family is dysfunctional, its more that there's a streak of lunacy a mile wide running through the whole lot of them. They're a bunch of fruitloops, and dealing with them is quite stressful enough under normal circumstances. Bringing the full weight of seasonal goodwill to bear on the proceedings usually renders the festive experience somewhere between Das Boot and Herbie Goes Bananas.
Eating, drinking and being merry - the combination of post-smoking weight gain and body dysmorphia mean that eating an apple is currently being construed in my twisted mind as an act of self-loathing. A box of Terrys All-Gold would most likely result in an outburst of sectionable proportions. Drinking is not, and never has been, my forte, and my social live burnt itself out in 2001.
The good news is that I quite like cooking and baking, so I'm going to make some pickles and chutneys, and several Christmas cakes, one for MrAlly, and others to give to friends. If you would like me to make a Christmas cake for you, please get in touch. I'll happily do it for the cost of the ingredients.
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posted
Sincerest condolences Hippy and Abby, reading all that as well as Jonesy's story almost brought a tear to a cynical eye.. Just to add to the gloom I'm currently hoping that my grandad makes it to Christmas, though seeing as he won't know anything much about it thanks to the advanced state of his alzheimers it may be for the best if he doesn't last much after Posts: 2337
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I get a bit misty about the thought of Christmas. I love the whole idea of it, but last year is the first year ever it has actually lived up to it's potential for me. Last year being the first year of spending Christmas as a single person. For the first time ever, I didn't have to do one single thing that I didn't want to do. Obviously having my daughter makes Christmas magical anyway, but last year was just acest!
I invited friends round, had an internet mate down to stay that I'd never met before [which could have been disasterous, but turned out to be just brilliant! Especially when he uttered the line "now that I'm fully qualified as a white witch....."] I had people popping in and out all day, my daughter's father came for lunch and it was all mightily chilled and wonderous. It had the atmosphere of warmth and friendship that I always thought it should have had instead of trying not to piss off your mother-in-law by not making the gravy in exactly the same way she does.
But, for some reason this year I've not made any plans yet. I would like to be at home again and would love a houseful of people. I don't mind the whole shopping for presents thing, I totally dig cooking and now that I am ok enough with myself to say to my grandparents that actually, I'd rather just see them boxing day without fear of being struck by lightening, the possibilities are endless!
Next year, my new-found brother and sister and I are going to rent a huge house and get as many of the family as possible together and have a "family" Christmas, which for my brother and sister is something they have never had and so will be pretty awesome.
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posted
I cant wait for some cool pub beers with friends, it will be magic. A quick smoke, relaxing, not thinking too hard, and being single, so maybe I will have a week long magical christmas romance. Im looking forward to it loads.
posted
O GOD. The part of my mind that is forever young holds on to the notion that Christmas is special, exciting, and is a time to be looked after and given presents and food until I can take no more. This glimmer persists in the face of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, to whit: the fact that my sister, being married, is exempt from the whole 'going to the parents' deal (which is no bad thing as her husband's a tosser), that as my brother is as nutty as a Christmas cake my parents can't cope with him for more than half a day at a time, that mad and lonely cousin will need to be there, and that I am the only leavening in the whole soggy mess, meaning I have to be bright and funny and gr9999 the whole buggering time, which turns me naturally into a total grouch, tutting and rolling my eyes Claire Fischer-like when people aren't immediately ready for my canapes over which I've slaved for, ooh, five minutes.
And now it's further complicated by being with R. What I'd like to do is stay home with him, do morning sex, eat loads, have presents, and watch shit telly. Instead, I'll have to spend the next six weeks in delicate negotiations with his family, my family and each other along the lines of 'well if I went to yours on Xmas day, hired a car, drove to mine on Boxing Day, then back to London on the 27th to see my sis, who as I may have mentioned doesn't have to go anywhere, then everyone would be happy. Oh, apart from me, that is. And my parents will be all 'just do what makes you happy', but not really mean it, and just the thought of doing what makes me happy fills me with guilt. We were going to go away, but now can't afford it. which i'm quite relieved about.
Why is being a dutiful Christian such hard work?
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posted
i heart christmas. all of its little pleasures. like balancing time between two families, driving from manchester to derby to essex and back again. on top of having spent a fortune on airfare. feeling guilty for not spending enough time at one family and spending too much time at the other. getting back to manchester for new years eve and hoping that i'll have an interview in london for my visa on the 4th. not being sure when to book a flight back because having to change the flight costs $200. and more worries about money and presents. its great isn't it.
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posted
I like Christmas. I do. I like it to begin at some point in mid-December and end by the new year.
Unfortunately, I live in a place in which the commercial rush for the holidays now seems to begin in mid-August. August, for fuck’s sake.
It’s a particularly touchy area for me, for seemingly silly reasons which hearken back to a much younger froopyscot’s childhood in New England. My birthday, it should be noted, is also in December. Because of this I have an accumulated annoyance, built up over the years, about being inundated with Christmas on my birthday. (The corrollary annoyance, it should be noted, about being a child in New England with a birthday which is close to Christmas is that one receives far more sleds and snow boots than might objectively seem reasonable. And these gifts, while well-intentioned, don’t really play well during the summer school break.)
I should note that Rooster doesn’t share my sense of indignation about having a December birthday. But then again, her birthday is 8 days further away from Christmas than mine. And she was raised in Florida, where the likelihood of snow sleds and snow boots as gifts seems fairly remote.
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posted
Ooh, I was not even going to post on this thread, because I was afraid that the moratorium on Christmas before froopy’s birthday would prevent me from it, but as he’s done it, I guess I can too
I’m perfectly happy for Christmas to begin at or around that day in November where we Yanks give thanks that the Indians didn’t skin the hides of all our forefathers (this year, the 25th). I start privately listening to Christmas songs and doing my shopping an entire month early, and unlike froopy, have always thanked my lucky stars for a December birthday, because it meant I got cash from my parents which I could promptly turn around on presents for friends.
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posted
Memo: To Everyone Who's Stressing about Spending Xmas With Their Parents.
DON'T GO! It only stings the first year. They'll get over it. You'll feel guilty for about three seconds when you wake up on Christmas morning, but then, you know, you can have sex, open a present, enjoy a pint or two of hot port. You'll feel much better in no time. You'll get a pang mid-afternoon, as well. Probably during an ad-break in 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', while you sip a glass of champagne and nibble contemplatively on a quail's leg. Like I say, though, that's only the first year, every subsequent year will be a doddle.
quote:Originally posted by Uber Trick: How close is the pub? It may be raining now but a walk in the rain has pub at the end!
How close is the pub eh? Well, there is a story here, it isn’t relevant but I am going to continue because I need to vent.
The pub was in Wimbledon, I was in White City. I was going to the pub to lay down a precautionary few pints before going to see The Circus of Horrors. Not something I would usually choose to do, but Martin got talked into it when a little worse for wear then promptly forgot the whole conversation until his mate phone up to say he had got the tickets. First I heard was some time later.
But anyway, yes it was raining, it was raining a lot. A lot. By the time I reached the tube station I was utterly drenched, sqishy feet, coat soaked through on the shoulders, everything. Got the tube to Notting Hill Gate…no district line trains to that station, the eventually announce to the 500 people waiting for one. No circle line trains for another 15 mins, so I got the bus to High Street Kensington…anyway, to cut it short it took me one hour and forty five minutes to get from White City to Wimbledon, meaning I was too late for any beer, and missed the first 5 mins of the show.
As it turns out this 5 mins was no great loss. Don’t ever go to this event. For the love of God just don’t! I wasn’t keen to start with and somebody saying it was a bit like a cross between The Rocky Horror Show and a Circus did not help. There are, to be fair, some acrobatic type people who can do impressive bendy/jumpy/balancing things, but on the whole, as a package, it rates among the worst ways to spend a couple of hours. Bearing in mind that I am still soaking wet, a comedy dwarf getting his cock stuck in a vacuum cleaner was not doing it for me.
This isn’t like one of Thorns film reviews where he says it sucks and you all go anyway, just don’t.
So. That was good. And now it seems that my boss thinks I am a trouble maker because I have used up too much holiday (due to the aforementioned issue with the time organising my Dads funeral being classed as holiday) and me saying that I have to move house in April and this might require some time off being very provocative.
She is very stern and I am no good at this kind of thing. I always just start crying if I try to stand up for myself – how can I not cry! I have an impending sense of doom.
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posted
Why would anyone drink in Wimbledon - it's full of Seth Effrikans...
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turbo
Gold..... What is it good for? You can't eat it, you can't smoke it, yet everybody wants it.
posted
Fuck, I wrote a really wrong reply and got logged out. Bah humbug.
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scrawny
One Mojito, two Gin and Tonics, Three Bacardi Lime Sodas, and a couple of pints of Stella please.
posted
Y'see? Loada bollocks.
I have been informed today that I won the nice-off and therefore do not have to work the graveyard shift. I do, however, have to come in up to and including the 24th.
Last year I sat in Output with Jamie and Chris and drank a bottle of ready mixed bucks fizz from Marks and Spencer whilst listening to this, so this is not all bad.
[ 10.11.2004, 08:28: Message edited by: scrawny ]
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![[Frown]](frown.gif)
) five days after Christmas day, so not only do we have to be massively inventive, we have to do it twice in the same week, and keeping the three sets of parents that we now have to deal with happy. I also work just off Oxford street, so by November 9th it's probably safe to say that I hate everybody, and the pitiful lunch hour that I have assigned to the task of buying stocking fillers for my nearest and dearest gets eaten up with the task of viciously beating Japanese tourists who somehow think it is OK to stand stock still in a line on the pavements of our fair capital marvelling at the wonders that the Gap window dressers have managed to conjure up, whilst gesticulating with golfing umbrellas.![[Smile]](smile.gif)
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" My Christmas tip to you Scrawny: stock up on the Sudafed. Good for many reasons!
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