1 December 2003
It can't still be Christmas, can it? My local supermarket has had festive food on offer since June, at least and the Christmas decorations on the high street have been up since March or so. Does Christmas get earlier every year, or is it my imagination?
Anna says;
In short, no. Or perhaps yes.
You see, being entirely pedantic, Christmas doesn't actually move. It's a day. Just the one. December 25th. That's your lot. In theory.
But that's only a theory, and, as we all know, your first hearing of 'Happy Xmas (War is over)' pumped through the speakers in your local Mall can be, it seems, in the middle of August, before a single leaf has fallen.
We hear stories about a workmate's aunt, who buys all her next year's presents in the Christmas sales, or the man who spends each spare moment fixing up his winter wonderland decorations, tightening each flashing bulb and waiting for a sign of winter so that he can cover his roof in fake reindeer shit once more...
When they close their eyes, it is Christmas. In their dreams, sleighbells ring.
For some, it is not Christmas yet. Some will wait for the very last minute before admitting it is Christmas. For some, that one day will be too long.
For others it has been Christmas all along. And it is thanks to them, the "Christmas Lovers" that we will meet time and again over the next few weeks, that we have this ever present festive feeling.
Christmas is always with us. It's like the poor.
No, not like the poor. More like a virus that hides inside you and resurfaces just when you want it least.
In many ways, Christmas is a lot like Herpes. Inevitably recurring, sometimes painful, uncomfortable or embarrassing, and something that you don't really want to share with your entire family.
So yes, it may seem like we've lived through a dozen Christmasses since we came back from our summer hols, but don't fool yourself.
Christmas is coming. That goose is getting fat.
We're into December and there's no stopping it now.
We're due another attack.
I just hope I've got enough ointment.
Or at least enough sherry.
Meg says:
Sometimes, I wish I was American. Only sometimes, mind, but sometimes it seems like it would be quite a sensible thing. Specifically, at this time of year, the Americans have got it sorted.
Why? Four words: Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
Yes, you may boggle at the gigantic balloons and sheer corporateness of the event, but the most significant bit of the parade is not found among the forty-six yellow-jumpsuited flight crew members manhandling the Big Bird balloon above their heads, nor in the glass box on top of a float in which they plonk some hapless celeb - Bob Hope, Blossom, Matt Le Blanc, someone of that calibre. The most important bit of the parade is the end: A fat red bloke on a sledge, waving at the chilly crowd. And you know what that means? The Christmas season has arrived.
Christmas commercialism can only begin in the US after Thanksgiving has subsided - and since Thanksgiving only rolls around towards the end of November, that usually means that the Christmas silliness can only last for four weeks or so.
Unlike the UK.
On September the ninth this year, I went into Tesco Metro in Hammersmith station, and saw the unmistakable glint of red foil on crackers and gold ribbon around luxury biscuit selections.
September the ninth. That's a month and three quarters before Halloween, practically two months before Bonfire Night, and a whopping two and a half months before Christmas day itself. We were still in the T-shirts of summer, only a week and a bit past the August bank holiday. The kids had only just gone back to school, their sunburn still smarting.
Is anyone that organised, to be buying festive table decorations in September?
Frankly, I think in this respect (if not others), our American chums have got this whole holiday schedule thing right.
I think there's a lot of sense in having a festival in mid-autumn, to break up the long run towards the winter holidays, and to prevent the gifting and card companies from getting carried away too early.
So Christmas is still here, even though it's already been going on for months. You know the season has truly begun not when the supermarkets and greetings card companies tell you it has (approximately August), and not when the office Christmas party rolls around (as companies look for cheaper celebration solutions, parties get earlier and earlier - but note that if your office has its festive bash in November, chances are they'll be filing for bankruptcy by the new year) or even when you wander into your favourite high street store and find they're playing I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day.
No, the true sign of an impending Christmas is when you can't leave the house in the morning without first wading through reams of personal loan offers from friendly companies eager to help you increase your debt this festive season.
Christmas, you see, arrives the moment you realise you're not going to be able to afford it.
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