It’s that “bit in the middle” now, isn’t it? The time between Christmas and New Year when you find it hard to remember what day it is and the hard-of-thinking lose track of what day is bin day. Spoiler alert: it is not today, Monday, because even bin men deserve some time off during the festive season. When, like me, you have retired from the wacky world of work having next to no idea what day it is matters not a jot, which is just as well because until a few moments ago, I have been living under the misapprehension that today is Sunday.
When I was working, I took as little time off as possible at Christmas, preferring to use my precious annual leave at the various times of year it was less cold than it is today. The quieter roads were obviously an incentive, as well as the fact that work itself was not quite as demanding as it was for most of the year. While colleagues were still flopping on sofas, watching endless repeats on TV and consuming their own body weight in cheese, chocolates and cake, I’d be dreaming of a brighter day in between bursts of graft.
The only sad bit, at least for me, is that the family bit, which I regard as by far the most important part of Christmas, is over, too. Loved ones return to their normal abodes and it’s back to communicating via the various apps. Now my children have grown up, I value their company more than ever. Flying the nest is of course the norm and in some ways the new found peace and serenity is quite enjoyable. But the laughter and chaos when the band gets back together again is the best feeling in the world.
Having always had family scattered around the world, I have always felt their absence, particularly at Christmas. I come from a time when communication with families who didn’t live in and around Bristol was limited to letters (ask your parents, kids) and Christmas cards. Obviously, the internet didn’t exist and we didn’t have a house phone until I was nearly 20. The miracles of technology have made it possible to speak to and even see people who are many miles away, but I know, through experience, that it is not the same as being in the room with them.
While I raise a glass to absent family and friends at Christmas, I should extend that toast to those who cannot be at home at Christmas, whether they are sick in hospital, in work (I think particularly of emergency workers and those who defend our country) or are simply unable for whatever reason to be with those they love. There is no religious aspect to my Christmas, it is purely a state of mind. The desire to be with family and friends is so strong, even a free luxury holiday in, say, the Maldives or Australia for the Ashes cricket series, could even remotely tempt me away. And there is the knowledge that nothing lasts forever, as 2025 showed so conclusively. There were a lot of empty chairs at various dinner tables this year. That will be my dinner table one day. A place in the sun can wait.
The late, great crooner Andy Williams may have been onto something when he sang about “the most wonderful time of the year” because it always is for me. The bit in the middle will be over by the end of the week and normality will resume. Part of me is quite glad about that, but part of me misses loved ones more than ever. At least the memories of Christmas with the ones I love will sustain me for at least the rest of this grey British winter. They were the best times.
