Mezcla

Christmas Lights

Our first Christmas in the Villa MacBride was to be a special one. We had always gone overboard with decorations in our small house in Manchester and now The Boss intended to really go to town. 

And, in the end, that's exactly what we did.

She had me buy a realistic-looking fake tree the size of a giant redwood and we bought several boxes of new decorations from the local hypermarket to supplement the ones we brought from England. One of the major purchases was a long string of multi-colored lanterns to string around the balcony.

I should explain that the villa has a very large L-shaped balcony running the full length of two sides of the house. I can go for a morning jog without leaving the house and if we ever get rich we could use it as a helicopter landing pad. All the bedrooms open onto it and it overlooks an extremely popular holiday resort, as well as the sea.

This balcony has more railings than an inner-city comprehensive school and The Boss decided that we should take advantage of these to put on a spectacular display of festive lights.

We spent a whole week "trimming" the house. Garlands were strung, baubles hung and fake snow applied to windows. I stuck dozens of Chinese lanterns to all our eyeball spotlights with blu-tac. Eventually, The Boss was satisfied and the living room looked like a Santa's grotto decorated by demented elves.

The lights were hooked onto the balcony railings and immediately judged insufficient. I had to go and buy a second string. When we switched them on after dark the effect was magnificent, but every moth in the neighbourhood made a beeline for our house. The swarm reached the proportions of a biblical plague and we had to sweep the balcony every morning to get rid of the casualties. But ... I discovered dead moths make great fertilizer, so that particular cloud did have a silver lining.

When all was finished, The Boss began to issue invitations to all our friends to visit. All this effort had to be witnessed and appreciated. The replies were all the same:

'Sorry, we're going to Yorkshire for Christmas.'

'Thanks, but spending Xmas with family in Scotland.'

'Have booked a Christmas Cruise to the Canary Islands.'

Even our Spanish friends were going away or had other arrangements. We felt like social pariahs.

Rather than spend Christmas Eve on our own we headed down to our local town to find some festive cheer. Most of the bars were empty. The town, usually packed and lively, was as dead as a doornail. A waiter explained that it was a Spanish tradition to have a family meal at home on Christmas Eve. Nobody went out. Many of the bars and restaurants hadn't bothered to open.

It was a warm evening so we found a seafront bar that was open and had a drink outside on the terrace. A group of Scottish women rolled up wearing pink "hen night" sashes. They were all very large, very drunk and very disappointed at the lack of nightlife. They formed a noisy crowd outside the bar, some of them sitting on the low sea wall opposite. Then my ears pricked as I heard snatches of conversation.

'It looks like a disco.'

'Must be something going on up there, there's bound to be some blokes.'

'We can ask the barman to get us some taxis.'

Yeah, there's nothing doing here, let's give it a try.'

'I just need to check something,' I said to The Boss, and wandered over to the wall. When I turned I could clearly see the lights on our balcony standing out like a beacon on the dark hillside. It certainly did look like a nightclub.

We sprinted to the car, rushed home, and switched off the lights before we could be invaded by the hens. They're probably still out there, searching aimlessly for a party.

So we spent our first Christmas Eve sitting on the sofa in the dark with a glass of cava and watching DVDs. We didn't have internet or satellite TV at the time so didn't even have the pleasure of all the old repeats.

Our quiet evening was uneventful until The Boss decided to make a late-night snack for us to have on the sofa. I turned the lights on to prepare the coffee table and that's when it started to snow. Not the cold white stuff obviously. In our house, it snowed Chinese lanterns. As the spotlights warmed up, the blu-tac melted, and all the lanterns fluttered to the floor.

When The Boss came back carrying a tray she stood and looked at our ruined Santa's grotto and sighed.

'I think we'll spend next Christmas with my parents,' she announced.

***

Although Christmas was a damp squib we ended our first year on a high note. New Year's Eve was much better. Some of our friends had returned, so a few of them did see our decorative efforts. The rest were forced to look at photographs.

We had a small party and barbecue on the balcony and watched an impressive midnight firework display, which probably cost more than the town's annual tax revenue.

After our guests had gone, we sat on the balcony and reflected on all we had achieved in a year. It had been hectic to say the least, and I had begun to begrudge the time I had to spend working away from home. The Boss also didn't like being left on her own for weeks at time, so we started thinking of ways I could spend more time in Spain. The obvious solutions were either to find a job locally, or start a business, and this became my New Year's resolution.

Over the subsequent years, I tried both, and after a few hiccups, eventually succeeded.

But that's another story.

You can listen to a selection of short fiction, like the one below, on my YouTube podcast channel: