I have just realised that it’s less than three weeks to C Day.

Frankly I’m not pushed.

I do remember the excitement as a kid, with the flames of anticipation fanned by the Advent Calendar. As a child I would be wild with excitement but as an adult [open to debate?] I’m not pushed.

My mother was a stickler for tradition. Our tree never got put up before C Eve and that was the day for decorating the house and tree. Then of course there was Midnight Mass. In the morning I would wake usually around six and dive to see what Santa had left me in my long sock [do any kids wear long socks these days?] which was pinned to the foot of my bed. It was always filled with sweets, little toys, pencils and at the very bottom in the toe – an orange. I hasten to add that Santa vanished in a puff of disappointed smoke when I was five or six.

After breakfast it was Presents Time. They had all been collected in a big wicker basket which was ceremoniously brought in. They were then passed out to each of us [my father, my mother, big sister, big brother and myself]. I might add that I don’t ever remember anything being given that required batteries. Of course my mother insisted on the full dinner – turkey, ham, roast potatoes and sprouts, followed by Pudding [with a few sixpenny pieces in it] plus brandy butter, mince pies and Yule Log. There was none of that Vegan shit in our house.

Christmas lasted until Epiphany when the tree and all the decorations were taken down. Tradition dictated twelve days, not eleven or thirteen.

Things have changed. Mother, Father and Big Sister are all gone and I haven’t a clue where Big Brother is. Daughter and the Grandkids will have their house full no doubt and now have their own traditions, which is as it should be. We’re very happy to spend the day in blissful quiet, just myself, Herself and Penny.

In the past we have treated the day is if it were any other day but not this year. I have strings of lights up in the house, having put them up about four years ago and never bothered to take them down. They are grand up there as they are invisible unless I switch ’em on. There are even plans for a real tree. The old artificial one is a tad worn and Herself has a hankering for a real one. The plan is to get a baby one in a pot so we can plant it after [as if we need yet another tree in the garden!].

Nearer the day I might string some holly and ivy around the place – God knows we have more than enough of both in the garden, though I can’t see any berries on the holly yet.

If anyone wants to call in they are welcome.

Just don’t mind if the two of us are off our heads on Carlsberg and Jameson and still celebrating the Solstice.