Christmas is upon us. The jovial fat man in red is starring in the Coca Cola ads, John Lewis have reeled out their annual offering of tear-jerking tosh and faux Norwegian Spruces have been erected in supermarkets throughout the country.
Perhaps I too should be embracing the festivities, getting delirious with tinsel and fairy lights and building a snowman, but I am finding it very difficult to conjure up even an ounce of excitement.
Every year the family gather around the table, awaiting the turkey’s grand entrance. You help yourselves to the veg and the trimmings and all seems good until you taste that turkey.
Even a culinary genius would struggle to make me salivate over that bland old bird. Why not have a nice duck instead? Now that’s a meat of indulgence.
When it comes to Christmas dinner, it’s quite obvious that the pigs in blankets are the real stars of the show. In fact a massive sausage wrapped in heaps of bacon would make a much better centrepiece.
Christmas crackers are pointless little explosions of disappointment.
The joke isn’t funny, the paper hat always splits as I place it onto my large head and the tacky nail clippers are barely worth a mention.
Where does it even come from? I’m pretty certain that Mary and Joseph didn’t pull a cracker on the arrival of the baby Jesus, who, whilst we’re at it, rarely get’s a mention these days. Even though we’re celebrating his birthday.
To be fair to Christmas, the present giving is always a hilarious rollercoaster ride. There is always that one relative who has no general sense when it comes to gift buying.
Just sit and watch in hysterics as your older sibling opens up a Teletubbies stationary set. The older men in the family always end up with countless pairs of socks. That’s a good reason to never grow old.
I just find that Christmas completely loses all effect when you grow up.
It is ultimately for children who still believe in Santa and his pesky red-nosed reindeer and watching their little eyes light up as they unwrap that Lego set, bicycle and latest video game that they’ve been so unpatiently waiting for.
Now I know I’m starting to sound like the lovechild of Ebenezer Scrooge and The Grinch but there are aspects of the day that I genuinely enjoy.
I like the fact it’s a family day. I like that there’s no shame in drinking no matter what time of the day it is. I love the scent of pine in the morning that only ever comes with a real tree. The decorations I can handle. I actually dislike it when they are taken down. The house always looks so naked afterwards.
However, I cannot stomach another showing of The Wizard of Oz or The Sound of Music, The Queen’s annual message does absolutely nothing for me and I swear if I hear Slade screeching ‘It’s Christmas…’ one more time, the angel is being knocked off the top of the tree with a Terry’s Chocolate Orange.
I simply find Christmas Day to be a carbon copy year in, year out. It’s lost its magic and sparkle, even though the M&S fairies are trying their best to spread the cheer, this year, to save me from tears, let’s make it the last Christmas.