annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 22

Today is the proper solstice day this year apparently, though we all go for it on the 21st, or we do round here - burning of the clocks - that kind of malarkey - I don't know what the ritual on the shortest day/longest night traditionally is, because I'm too tired and maybe I never knew or maybe I did and now I've forgotten. Dunno..

Why is Christmas so hard this year? I mean, I know why,  but why has Christmas the power to intensify the feelings so much? I reject most of what Christmas actually stands for these days - not the birth of Jesus and all that, that's peripheral if not totally absent for most of us in the UK these days. Even the carols don't seem to mention him any more. It's all about shopping now, and there's this concept of a perfect Christmas blasting out all over the place, as if we all live in houses with a soft glow, an open fire, a warm loving family and a tribe of beautiful friends. Unending delicious food, lavish decorations, plenty of problem-free alcohol, a stack of tastefully wrapped presents. It's clearly bollocks, most families bicker and squabble and kids get picked up and dropped off; alcohol makes a lot of people narky at the very least, and it's all shit (not entirely, I know). It's not that the loss of Sammie destroys some idyllic family time - although now I've had that little moan I keep remembering times we laughed a lot together, all of us.

I do like the way Christmas is something the whole country gets behind - it's the only shared tradition here in the UK and it transcends religion for many people. I know loads of Jews who celebrate it in the same way we do - family, presents, a tree, a meal - and I've known Muslims who do as well.

There's a certain stillness that I like, on the day. The shops all shut, little traffic.

But we're all fucked up, me and the kids.  And it is about Christmas and it is about Sam, and there's no way round it, nothing's gonna make it better or make it go away. We'll go to M's house on the 25th and what will be will be and then it will be over, for a bit, as New Year's Eve can fuck off as well. I wouldn't mind getting a bit pissed and dancing, but I don't know where 65 year olds go to have a drink or two and dance and if I did, I wouldn't know how to get home - you need a mortgage to get a cab on NYE.

So. I finished the room, got all the furniture in, put everything away in the cupboard, not well, but enough to make it a nice room. Then went and fetched Son from the station and he's barely come out of it since. He did come down for dinner. Man. It's not just a spare room, it's my craft room and I want to be in it.

Also I've lost some of the presents I have bought - I mean they're in the house somewhere, but fucked if I know where - oh god, writing is so brilliant - as I finished that last word 'where' I suddenly thought of a cupboard I don't use - it's where I'm meant to keep all my paperwork, but I haven't put anything in it for years except ta da! The presents! So that's OK, but also one of Son's - the main one - a wall hanging, bought online - hasn't turned up and I haven't done anything about it except hope it will turn up tomorrow.

Today I am gratful for: Ligia sending me photos of cats and sunsets and love all the way from Chile to my phone, to help me through the rough times, gracias, amiga; Niece's husband heaving the cupboard upstairs and it all looking good in there; having Son staying - probably gonna be difficult, but that's just the way it is - always glad to have him here with me; yoga; bed

Night night xxx


12:52 a.m. - 23.12.19


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