Lost to the Bin

'Don't get me started on Christmas...'

Written November 2015

Christmas. A word with varied effects. It brings thoughts of joy, gifts, the home made calendar you will create for your parents to the minds of children; thoughts of stress, dread and the vast sum of money they will be spending to the heads of adults.

'Should we book a table somewhere?' 'Can we cook a roast ourselves?' and 'Should we send out cards this year?' are just some of the questions racing through you mind as Hallowe'en draws to a close. That is how religious celebrations work these days. The second the clock ticks past midnight on October 31st, the Hallowe'en aisle is ripped out and transformed into a perfect embodiment of the Christmas consumerism we all know and love.

This is also one of the habits of Christmas that infuriates me the most. What kind of logic means that a festival celebrated at the END of December begins these celebrations at the BEGINNING of November? This, of course, leads to Christmas' ultimate downfall- the build-up. Decorations appear in shops in early November, followed by the adverts that have the usual cliché messages- 'Christmas is a time for giving, it's all about family- now buy our overpriced products'. Mountains of advent calendars erupt in the corners of every shop. Signs reading 'New CHRISTMAS woodland Play Mobil Advent calendar- now only £29.99'. Due to my purchasing this calendar last year (I am ashamed to admit), I know that this is, in fact, a randomly thrown together 'woodland' of all the small-ish animals they did not sell during the year, Father Christmas and a tree with some clip of curls of white plastic (which were meant to be passed off as 'snow'). So because of this unnecessarily long drum roll, every single person will inevitably have a sinking feeling of disappointment on Christmas day.

However, this feeling is not only caused by the build-up. Similar to summer, where every magazine and advert is shouting about everyone needing to be 'beach body ready', all the Christmas adverts depict families sitting down to vast quantities of very expensive food. The turkey will have been sitting in the freezer since mid-October, when they began appearing for 'new low prices' in the supermarket. This will also be impossibly huge, as adults pace the aisle, convincing themselves that they can only really feed everyone if they get the biggest turkey. And as the turkey was so expensive, not a scrap of it will go to waste. The family that eats this turkey will be forced to scrape every last morsel off the bone, and will be eating it in sandwiches every SINGLE DAY until early February. The bones will be boiled up to make turkey stock, which will inevitably stay in the back of the freezer for the next 6 years. The fat will be left out for the already overweight pigeons that waddle across every lawn, looking for leftovers, whilst every cat watches from the bushes, eyes gleaming greedily.

Then there are the relatives. Yes, you get £10 from them once every 7 years or so, but first you have to put up with their snide remarks. This is usually worse coming from the older generations of the family. 'Oh, look, dear, you used to be so much skinnier', 'Your mother tells me you only got B in that English exam you did- I got an A when I did English, and that was back when we did O-levels!' They lean in slightly at this point, because you clearly weren't looking uncomfortable enough, and dare to speak the words 'Now O-Levels, they were proper exams! None of this GCSE rubbish!' And then you have to try to explain how an iPod (that somebody stupidly bought them) works. Yes, it has a touch screen, yes, it is magic, and no, I am not even going to try to explain what an iCloud is.

Once the turkey is roasting quietly in the oven, it is time for the event that leaves some family members sulking for years. The Christmas spirit and laughter dies down as the box is retrieved from the high cupboard it was banished to last year. A couple of pieces of green plastic are found behind the TV- all that is left of last year's war. The tension builds as you seat yourselves around the dining room table. Then it is time. The money divided up, the small metal pieces placed on 'Go', and the game of Monopoly begins. Properties are bought randomly at first, before desperately trading to get sets. Grandad builds his usual 'Corner of Death'; hotels on the red properties. You all lean in, properties and 'get out of jail free' cards kept firmly to your chests, the extra £500 note tucked safely under the board. The pressure rises, the game intensifies, the notes become increasingly sweaty, until finally someone snaps.

'YOU STOLE £50 FROM ME WHEN I WENT TO THE TOILET, DIDN'T YOU?' They shout, as the board flies across the room. They storm back to their armchair, kick a pile of wrapping paper aside, and passive aggressively rustle their Daily Mail until dinner is ready.

Then, after we have eaten so much we feel sick, and Grandad has fallen asleep in his chair, we sit down to enjoy a bit of festive television. And every single year, we forget the phrase 'there is always someone who dies at Christmas'. After having to deal with my mother's complete devastation after Matthew's death in Downton Abbey a few years ago, I can safely say that this is not a good time to kill off characters.

Don't even get me started on the 'meaning' of Christmas. Despite what this year's John Lewis advert will have you sobbing over, Christmas is no longer a 'time for giving'. It barely mentions the birth of Christ (you know, the person the festival is BASED ON?). It has become a stress-inducing time of year that is all about receiving.

So just put down the gifts, take off the Christmas jumper, and think: is this really the way you want to spend 'the most wonderful time of the year'?