By late September, the cement in the foundations of the Christmas plans was setting nicely and the scaffolding was under construction for our two families. Shared festive traditions had evolved through their years of friendship. Each purchased a tree bauble for the other during their holidays and each had amassed a collection of these items which came to include German figures capable of appearing to puff smoke, and smoked glass globes with holiday place names. Food was always exquisite and achieved courtesy of the Marks and Spencer pre order and pick up service.
Family members were assembled in their relevant household in good time for the Christmas eve rituals of sprout peeling (to get ahead) and mince pie making (you can’t beat home-made) plus the two-family solidarity appearance at midnight mass (which makes you feel really Christmassy). This year there was a frisson of excitement around the apparently deepening relationship between two former-children of the two families – both due to graduate from different Welsh universities.
Away from Christmas and family affairs, Amy and Paul – the ex-children in question – were working out how they could make a life together. Amy thought she might be pregnant (unconfirmed) and they were each working long shifts in different parts of the Christmas economy and renting a bed sit for the holiday.
They were both tired, and longing for a few days together to talk over future plans and current problems. It wasn’t that either wanted to distress their families.
They don’t actually need us there to enjoy Christmas, do they?
Paul was optimistic, and not entirely wrong about this.
No they don’t need us but it’s a kind of sacrifice people make isn’t it? I mean I haven’t even said that I’m vegetarian. It would just upset everybody.
Amy was guilt ridden at wanting to break away from the family straightjacket but desperate for some peace to sort herself out.
Look, we’re adults. We can just stay here. The room’s ours until mid-January. We’ll each call our parents and explain how things are. They’ll understand.
So, two phone calls crossed the national border. Paul may have talked briefly about financial worries and Amy might have let slip her pregnancy concerns. Who knows what was said?
What we do know was that, in an unexpected turn of events, two cars left the English countryside on Christmas morning laden with tree, food and plenty to drink.
We couldn’t leave you all alone at Christmas, could we?
Paul’s mum was close to tears
Especially with a baby on the way. Christmas is all about children isn’t it?
Amy’s mum was also in need of a tissue.
Well it’s a good sized tree
Paul’s dad remarked as he and Amy’s dad unwrapped the foreign bought baubles to decorate the branches.
As they chomped on M and S best, perched on chair arms and cushions it was generally agreed that traditions needed to be more flexible in future.
