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Just another day

I think I was either twelve or thirteen years old when somehow I realised that I wasn’t a young kid anymore, and the Christmas magic was wearing off a bit.

I’d campaigned for weeks to get that Mecanno set that I’d wanted (making the step up from Lego – trying to go all mature), but my endearing memory of that Christmas day years ago, was struggling to build something even very simple and screw it all together, getting frustrated and saying the nearest thing to a swear word that I thought I could get away it.

Actually, I think my parents were next door at the time so I could of got away with saying anything – they were doing the tradition of having an early morning tipple with your neighbour – another thing that seems popular in the UK, but not so much in the USA.

Quite a contrast to a few years earlier, when I was eight years old and when school broke up for the holidays on the 19th of December, that seemed like the longest week of your life waiting for Christmas to tick around. Eating the last few chocolates of the advent calendar, and giving my mum a look of desperation that if there was any way that I could somehow get just one present a day or two early, that would somehow alleviate the frustration to the build up of the big day. But my mum was made of stern stuff, and she never succumbed.

Roll back forward to when I was 17, and I was able to drive for the first time. I headed out onto the road, somehow expecting my driving experience to be different, just because it was Christmas day. Was it? Of course not. Christmas is actually just another day like any other, and it’s only made by what you make of it. And driving around on a slightly damp and foggy morning, it did too seem just like any other day, except that the cars of children being ferried about were being taken to visit other family members, not to their local school.

And roll lots more forward to quite a recent memory when I was single and ended up in by myself on Christmas evening, with the glorious luxury of being able to choose the TV channel without having to check with anyone else if that was ok. You see? It’s all about the bloody TV again isn’t it? But Christmas by yourself is quite a cathartic experience. Try it sometime.

Perhaps there should be something new to believe in when you’re older for Christmas. How about a grown up version of Santa Claus?

Or maybe you should just hurry through that phase of life and realise that – as the cliche says – crimbo really is for the kids, so you’d better produce some of your own, so you can enjoy it like you used to all over again.

Merry Christmas.

4 responses to “Just another day”

  1. Alan Perks says:

    Easy for you to say, I’m knackered! And I’ve got lego shaped holes in my knees.

  2. Happy Christmas, wherever or however you’re celebrating.

  3. […] Geoff: Roll back forward to when I was 17, and I was able to drive for the first time. I headed out onto the road, somehow expecting my driving experience to be different, just because it was Christmas day. Was it? Of course not. Christmas is actually just another day like any other, and it’s only made by what you make of it. And driving around on a slightly damp and foggy morning, it did too seem just like any other day, except that the cars of children being ferried about were being taken to visit other family members, not to their local school. […]

  4. dan says:

    Well, here’s the thing: Then the kids grow up, and you have to find ANOTHER reason to get excited about Xmas. Obviously, for most people, that’s GRANDKIDS, but there’s a gap (one hopes).

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