Throughout the Christmas period, time freezes, life pauses and we live in
a merry little bubble of getting up at noon, watching nostalgia on the telly
and making time for friends and family. Very nice. Then, time restarts and the
face fill is done for another year – apart from the stray chocolates, an
unfinished box of biscuits and half a jar of cranberry sauce. The best
leftovers are the happy memories and we stumble back into life’s routine. If
someone had told me at the start of 2014 that I would be walking across the
ridge of a razor sharp hill (or mountain, according to the kids,) known as The
Cat’s Back, in the deepest Herefordshire countryside, on the second day of
2015, I would have questioned their sanity. I always see myself in a hungover
fug, barely moving from the settee in the early days of a new year. This
windswept trek was undertaken in a pair of oversized, borrowed, wellington
boots. I take size 10, so god knows what sort of giant owns this huge footwear.
Like the disheveled bunch of townies that we are, we proudly conquered the
Cat’s Back summit, passing a farmer herding his sheep on the way and followed
this with a chip butty and cheeky pint in a local pub, which was the perfect
way to become acquainted with 2015.
Christmas Day was a gathering, with both sets of parents rocking up for
a perfect roast, with our log fire glowing throughout the afternoon and into
the evening. The night before had been our traditional Christmas Eve family
film. Having exhausted most Christmas movies, we saw Elf again in Greenwich, a
movie you can’t beat at Christmas, no matter how many times you’ve seen it.
Within a week of buying our Christmas tree, it was as bald as Kojak, with its needles
forming a green carpet around its base. And, as I write this, the velvet tones
of Gregory Porter ooze from the speakers as Water,
my Christmas vinyl, flows into the room, conjuring up images in my mind of
Snoopy and Charlie Brown...
Snap back to reality. A bleary eyed return to work. Politicians with
their playground squabbles. Patients turned away from hospitals. Rubbish team,
sack the manager. Money tight and getting tighter. It is what it is. When the
year gets underway, 365 days seem like a long haul, with the impending ups and
downs, tears and laughter, victories and defeats but we pull ourselves through
- we always do – to be rewarded with another two weeks of time freeze and face
fill, when it once more grinds and winds to a temporary halt...
