Getting old really does change your view of Christmas. Gone are the days of going to bed in anticipation of the stocking, of the presents, of Christmas lunch and of seeing loads of family. The magic of the stocking has gone, no-one seems to give you presents once you get to 21, family members have spouses and other places to be, plus because your sister goes to Florida with her boyfriend and his family you end up having your Christmas meal on Christmas Eve and eating Chinese for lunch on Christmas day. Things just aren't quite the same.
I now have a deeper appreciation of the meaning of Christmas (thanks in part to Dan Golding's epic text message), but even that isn't too special as it's more of a year-round thing for me. TV lost it's appeal long ago, lack of practice means my sister's guitar is joyless, and there's only so many sweets I can eat when I'm not even hungry. For the first time this break revision was actually pretty appealing. It's not that it's been a bad day by any means, it's just, well, different. I remember leaving my cousin's house last year - with the massive family in a massive house with a massive TV and a massive quantity of food - and the lyrics 'There Must Be More Than This' came into my head. And I couldn't really think of a better way to put it to be honest.
But it's in this mediocrity that I've seen how other people have faced their Christmases. I heard from one friend who received nothing, said that their dad was going to take the presents they gave him to a charity shop, and had the first meeting with their mother in many many months cancelled at the last minute. I read a blog entry about a guy I used to know really well, who when I left London was recovering from alcoholism, but now is a complete mess. Another guy I knew from London, whom I saw only last week in his nice new apartment, was in immense physical pain as we spoke on the phone today, him sitting alone in his apartment and telling me not to ask the obvious festive question as the answer would be that he wasn't. Finally I think too of the guy from my Church who I had lunch with the other day, whose wife has extremely severe cancer, meaning they face the pain of great uncertainty of what is going on, where it will will lead and what it will be like.
And it makes me realise, I take so much for granted.
I now have a deeper appreciation of the meaning of Christmas (thanks in part to Dan Golding's epic text message), but even that isn't too special as it's more of a year-round thing for me. TV lost it's appeal long ago, lack of practice means my sister's guitar is joyless, and there's only so many sweets I can eat when I'm not even hungry. For the first time this break revision was actually pretty appealing. It's not that it's been a bad day by any means, it's just, well, different. I remember leaving my cousin's house last year - with the massive family in a massive house with a massive TV and a massive quantity of food - and the lyrics 'There Must Be More Than This' came into my head. And I couldn't really think of a better way to put it to be honest.
But it's in this mediocrity that I've seen how other people have faced their Christmases. I heard from one friend who received nothing, said that their dad was going to take the presents they gave him to a charity shop, and had the first meeting with their mother in many many months cancelled at the last minute. I read a blog entry about a guy I used to know really well, who when I left London was recovering from alcoholism, but now is a complete mess. Another guy I knew from London, whom I saw only last week in his nice new apartment, was in immense physical pain as we spoke on the phone today, him sitting alone in his apartment and telling me not to ask the obvious festive question as the answer would be that he wasn't. Finally I think too of the guy from my Church who I had lunch with the other day, whose wife has extremely severe cancer, meaning they face the pain of great uncertainty of what is going on, where it will will lead and what it will be like.
And it makes me realise, I take so much for granted.
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