Okay, so I admit it. As a family come yuletide, we always opt for the same old familiar Christmas films that filled us with giggles, awe or thrills the very first time we watched them. In fairness, we do strike out and watch a couple of brave, bright new things that come along while later tutting and agreeing that they’re alright but still don’t make the grade of the good old classics.
My nephew suggested we take a look at a film that came out last year called Violent Christmas. It’s a sort of comedy with quite a lot of blood and guts thrown in for good measure. As it stars David Harbour, star of Stranger Things, one of my favourite Netflix series, I was hoping for comedy gold. It didn’t hit the mark but it was vaguely entertaining with so much borrowed material from the likes of Home Alone. By contrast, we fell back on The Man who knew too Little, Die Hard 1, Home Alone 1 & 2, Bridget Jones 1, Some Like It hot, and Airplane and everyone was happy. It really is hard to beat these brilliant classics that have memorable and witty dialogue and fabulous and talented casts.
Why watch something new when you know what you like and look forward to seeing it again every year? Maybe it’s the nostalgia and the fact that everyone in the family knows most of the scripts off by heart that appeals. The truth is that watching them is like donning a pair of comfy slippers or a cosy cashmere sweater.
It’s the same with Christmas songs. There are loads of new ones on Spotify though I always find myself choosing the old classics. There was a lot of tedious wokery a few years ago about the inappropriate lyrics of some of these ditties such as my all-time favourite, Santa Baby, sung by Eartha Kitt. As soon as the thought police come along I am more determined than ever to play the song. I adore the sentimental festive songs by Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Andy Williams and Judy Garland. Give me the old timers any day.
Boasts in the post
Have you been treated to one of those cringeworthy annual brag fests otherwise known as the Christmas round-robin newsletter? Oh how I dread them! On the other hand, if you learn to read them in a silly, ironic voice, they grow much more entertaining, especially with a strong festive cocktail in hand. These days, I receive fewer of these pesky missives from friends, thankfully. Maybe that’s because I never reply and studiously make a point of not mentioning them if I should see the friend in question.
What makes them so loathsome? Well, partly it’s because they are usually unutterably tedious, boring, obnoxious and smug. It’s also because the news is often so humdrum and dull. If you’re going to send an annual missive, for heaven’s sake ensure that it’s a corker. House blew up, you drove to work on a hog, took part in a space mission, found a toyboy lover, spent six months living on top of a lamppost in the vein of Simeon Stylites the elder, indulged in a timed chilli pepper eating competition in Mexico, transported a pipe organ or a dancing giraffe by canoe up the Amazon to Manaus or ran a marathon in a bikini in Antarctica while playing the ukulele. All good calls but sadly, I don’t get any of that. Nope, my BITPs are full of multiple new grandchildren, their amazing skills that no other living child can match, yawn worthy job and promotion updates, children’s new internships, boyfriends or spoilt (paid-for by mum or dad) adventures in safe countries. Then there are the exotic lists of foreign holidays and away days and weekends in dreary coastal towns and God forbid, places such as Centre Parcs which fill my soul with horror. I got a BITP from old chums this month all about house moving that went on for two pages. I’m hoping there won’t be a post office in their new town.
Anyway, with the current mess of the Royal Mail, there’s every hope that those BITPs that haven’t yet reached me will end up in landfill somewhere. They say miracles happen at Christmas.
Christmas Community
This year I started Christmas with a heavy cold – thanks, London - and worked up to the very last minute on stressful deadlines before finally allowing myself to get into the Christmas spirit. It’s a time of year I enjoy because I buy lots of delicious mince pies and treats which I bring round to those neighbours who are ill, elderly or have no one to spend the festive period with. These little visitations bring me more joy than anything else. Just to make time to call on someone and have a chat, a giggle or a friendly word while offering a little cheer, is surely what it should all be about at this time of year. One of my lovely Mallorcan neighbours lost her husband last year after 60 years of marriage and I was tearful with her just remembering her happy times and the ghastly hole that his departure has meant. Another neighbour is battling cancer while her next-door neighbour is in recovery from a big op. I bring bottles and small gifts to kind tradesmen too – those that went the extra mile the previous year.
Of course, we need to be mindful of our neighbours and friends all year round not just during the festive season. I send my readers a Christmas greeting (hopefully not a BITP) and the sad replies I often receive at this time of the year underline how many are facing huge challenges in their lives. So then, that’s what this festive stuff should be about. Cherishing loved ones and holding them close while we can and letting others in our community circle know that we care. Cards, kindness and visitations should not just be the preserve of Christmas. We need to share Christmas spirit all year round.