We Three Kings of Hartlepool are…
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Well merrily ding dong, come all ye faithful and jingle me bells; Christmas is once more hurtling towards us like a police car towards Church Street on a Friday night… I write this pre-festive missive sitting here in the front room of my house which has been bedecked and festooned to look like a cheap and tacky version of Santa’s Grotto. In fact there are more decorations in here than in Santa’s Grotto in Middleton Grange!
As mentioned previously Mrs H loves all things Christmassy and so every time she comes home from wherever she’s been another few pieces of tinsel, baubles or other decoration accompanies her from the pound shop. The latest jolly item that has appeared is sitting on our front window sill and I hope it can feel the hatred as I stare at it with my steely gaze. It’s a small plinth which holds two snowmen who sing “Baby it’s Cold Outside” to each other when you walk past them. I used to quite like that song but after hearing it ten times today so far I feel that Sammy the Singing Snowman and his evil twin will meet with a freak window cleaning accident very soon…
She: “Where’s the Singing Snowmen?”
Me: “They fell out of the open window whilst I was reaching to clean the glass.”
She: “Did they break?”
Me: “I don’t know”
She: “Why’s that?”
Me: “Because they must’ve landed at least three gardens away!”
I don’t mind Christmas myself… after all it’s a time of year when you’re supposed to eat, drink and be merry – all things I’m pretty good at (well… 2 out of 3 ain’t bad!) but I feel that I really do need to draw the line somewhere. If I don’t watch out, I’ll find myself sat in my favourite armchair with Mrs H insisting that I wear a Santa outfit and beard just so that I fit in with the décor.
One thing I don’t particularly enjoy at Christmas is the works party – where you get to drink overpriced alcohol with people who you would never normally associate with outside of work in a place you wouldn’t normally be seen dead in. Don’t get me wrong… usually your colleagues are OK to have a drink with apart from a few exceptions (at the very least, every department has ONE bozo) but the trouble usually starts when other departments are invited and the cheap Chardonnay has taken effect. And even though you’re not being paid, work’s rules still apply – for instance it’s frowned upon by the big boss if you actually tell Tommy from HR at the top of your voice that he’s a jumped up unscrupulous little git who licks the senior manager’s boots to get on whilst treading on everyone else’s hopes and dreams on the way. It’s frowned on even more if you then hit him so hard that you knock him out and break his jawbone.
Not that I’ve ever done such a thing – I’ve never had the nerve to carry it out but I’ve certainly considered it. Every year.
The highlight of the Christmas period is, of course, Christmas Day itself. Me and Meine Ubergruppenfuhrer have the same routine each year and we think that it’s pretty unbeatable… I get up early and cook us a breakfast of smoked salmon scrambled eggs on toast and we wash it down with a bottle of champagne, all whilst listening to Christmas CDs or radio. After that we open our presents and have a nip of Scotch as a morning livener. Then it’s off to the Pint and Fight for 2 hours for a Christmas aperitif.
As a slight aside, a few years ago we had to spend a Christmas Day in another town visiting some old friends instead of being at home. The pre-dinner drinking session was held in an excellent pub which, even though we were strangers, gave us our first drink free. What followed was two hours of hysteria as the tradition in this pub was for all the men to visibly wear all of the Christmas presents of clothes that they had been bought. There were guys in three jumpers, one chap had a scarf which was actually a pair of trousers wrapped around his neck and socks as gloves, and one chap had a pair of underpants outside of his trousers (a la Superman)!
Back to the current Christmas plan… After the pub comes the main event – which of course is Christmas Dinner - this year ably cooked by the wife’s sister Camella (Is this the only time you can call a lunchtime meal ‘dinner’ without some Campaign for Real English Speaking pedant attacking you?). We all sit down at the table at two o’clock and start noshing our way through the mountains of turkey, roast potatoes, parsnips, bacon wrapped sausage thingies and sprouts (which have of course been cooking on a slow boil since early March). After dinner we then gently ease our way through the rest of the day with all of the adults in the family round the table in an evening long dinner party atmosphere whilst the kids play with their new presents and gadgets at the other end of the room. No TV, No radio, just a civilised family day with those that you love. Great stuff.
As Xmas is a time for celebration, partying, friends and of course family most of all, I tried to think of some nice quote to sum up my warm feelings for the festive season. I couldn’t think of anything particularly deep and meaningful so I thought that I’d leave you with the words of that great 1970s philosopher, Noddy Holder:
IIIT’SSSS CHRIIIIIISSSSSTTTTTMMMAAAAAAASSSSS!!!!!
Wherever you are and whoever you’re with, a very Merry Christmas to you all.
Cheers!
Headlander
