4 December 2003
I hate Christmas, and would happily chew both my legs off at the knees to get away from it. Where can I go? How can I do this without offending my nearest and dearest? What possible convincing reasons can I give for wanting to miss the festive season in the bosom of my loving family?
Meg says:
There are probably many things you want for Christmas this year. A bunny. The new Robbie Williams CD. Two front teeth. World peace. All of these are equally likely to appear under the tree - with the possible exception of the last, which is tricky to wrap (It'll be parked out the back, most likely.)
But despite the Christmas cards depicting nauseous families gathered for a traditional portrait in front of the fire, or the many adverts depicting family joy and bonding over mince pies in front of the Queen's speech ("Look! Granny's fallen asleep again! Isn't that sweet?"), for many people, deep down nothing comes higher on the Christmas wishlist than a family-free festive season.
Why? Because families are fundamentally irritating. They argue. They fuss. They disagree with you. They're nosy. They're annoying. They watch what you don't want to, and hog the remote. They eat all the hazlenut pralines in the tin and leave you with the coffee cremes. In short, like so many things in this life, they're a good idea in principal, but generally a terrible idea in practice.
This is not to say you don't love them, obviously. They may be an irritating family, but they're your irritating family - and that's what keeps you going back every year. That and guilt, obviously.
However bad you think your own are, other people's families are infinitely worse, of course. This is best evidenced in the seemingly endless stream of "round robin" Christmas newsletters which some families send out to friends and relatives with their cards. Such things usually consist of a typed and photocopied sheet (though some families go the whole hog and produce a mini newspaper, complete with pictures and clip art cartoons) detailing in gruesome detail every last little success and triumph the family has experienced over the last year. Julie is now a lawyer with Waffle, Yawn and Flid. She got married in a wonderful ceremony in June, and we're looking forward to our first Christmas with her partner Yassir. Ben has just been accepted to Brazenose and this year bought a flat. Little Timmy is not so little these days and is now halfway through his gap year, currently planting trees with a community project in Azerbaijan.
The families which write these things have so much to boast about, although it's always done in an understated, self-effacing way, which tries to dupe the reader into charitable thoughts about the Joneses, rather than just realising that you're reading a bunch of self-important twaddle. Something like a blog, then?
When it comes to the parents, there's a change in note: this is because it's much harder to write about how great you are in the first person, and also because adult lives are much less interesting. I've always said that, but then, that's because I'm blessed with uncommon insight. So you hear about Terry's work, ticking along as usual, and his recent knee trouble after the Chepstow half marathon. And you read about Kath's garden, the lovely family holiday in Provence/Tanzania/Peru and the sad loss of the author's mother/father/dog this year.
Christmas family newsletters feel insincere, perhaps because they're mass-distribution mailings disguised as personal letters, with the name of the recipient scrawled in after a typed "dear..." It's the festive family equivalent of spam. Please, please please don't let yourself be drawn in to boasting, however much you're got to be proud of this year. Insincere mass-mailings make the little baby Jesus cry.
But if you really don't want to spend Christmas this year with your (or anyone else's) family, consider three salient points:
First, the cost of running away. Goa may seem tempting. Cuba is enticing. Even a random hotel in the highlands may strike you as a good alternative this festive season. But be aware that escape comes at a premium. The flight companies and travel agents know that you're desperate to escape, and they whack a hefty pricetag on your disappearing act, whether you're going to Brazil or Bognor.
Secondly - and this may come as a surprise to some, but hear me out - Christmas isn't about you (unless, of course, you were born in a barn and have a confused parantal situation (don't we all these days?) including a teenage mother and an absentee father.) Christmas is probably more important for your family than it is for you, and snubbing them over the festive period is fairly unforgivable, even if you've got a iron-clad excuse - like living twelve thousand miles away, or being with the inlaws, or being in a coma. Nothing will ever be a good enough excuse for your mother, who may say it's fine and she understands, but will actually hold it against you for the next year and a half.
And thirdly, how bad is it, actually? I mean, yes, a family Christmas can be irritating and dull and stifling, but if you time it right, it's possible to spend the bare minimum of time at home while still serving your time in your parent's eyes. Christmas eve until Boxing Day morning is a good length of time - and any pain you experience can be easily numbed by sleep, alcohol and/or too much food while you're there. Pretending to be asleep in front of the telly will get you through many tedious conversations (hey, it works for Auntie Margaret) and failing all else, there's always drugs.
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