The Twelve Posts of Christmas

Photo by Jill Wellington on

Don’t panic!  I do not intend to put you through twelve Christmas posts in the run-up to the seasonal festivities.  I merely wish to offer you the option…

My memory, on occasion, can be very short; particularly, it must be said, when it comes to my own eminently forgettable output.  It takes a startlingly short time for me to forget what I have written and, on occasion, when I am forced to look back upon what I have done, I might be caught off guard by an old quip, a line I do not recognise as my own, and I might, fleetingly, smirk – because smirking is not laughing – at my own joke even though, for the life of me, I cannot remember making it.

I put a lot of effort into Christmas posts: I hone, if I might be so bold; I polish and buff.  I check spellings, I check definitions, I check that I haven’t written exactly the same thing in the years before.  I am always happy to have produced Christmas offerings, but I do find them time consuming: I start in mid-July most years.

So, here’s the nub:  this year – it being already mid-November (at time of writing) – I begin to fear that I might not be able to adequately fill the bloggy stocking this year.

Loath as I am to admit it, I am an absolute sucker for Christmas.  I love the entire over-sentimental, mawkish, looking-back-on-what-we-never-really-had-in-the-first-place faux nostalgic-ness of it all.  I love mince pies, I love the over-emotional outbursts of over-lubricated adults and under-funded children, I love helping with the Lego, dressing up as a reindeer and mopping snowball out of the living room carpet.  I love ‘Love Actually’.

For me, the best thing about this blessed season is that all of the naysayers, the Grinches, the ‘I hate Christmas’ers will, given a reasonable application of egg-nog, admit that it’s a nice time for the children and will try, at least, to show some good will to all.  Who could resist the mantra ‘Happy Christmas’ and, at least for a limited time, not mean it?  Father Christmas is a spirit and not an old man.  So when I say, as I do, that I believe in Father Christmas, I mean that I believe in this spirit and I really do ‘wish it could be Christmas every day.’  Imagine people smiling benignly at the eccentricities of family members rather than screaming at their backs.  Imagine siblings not tearing one another’s hair out.  Imagine the children of the Ukraine being able to scan the skies in the search for Father Christmas rather than Cruise Missiles…

So, what I have here, with something akin to unforgivable vanity, are links to my own favourite Christmas contributions and the suggestion that, if you can find the time, you might like to drop into the ‘comments’ section some links to your own festive outpourings.  It is, after all, the season for giving…

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
I believe in Father Christmas
Christmas Dinner
A Christmas Tale
A Boxing Day Tale
Festive Planning Principles
Green Ink on the Back of a Pizza Delivery Receipt
Searching for the Christmas Spirit
Supplementary Philosophy
A Pre-Christmas Exchange
Christmas Present (part 1)
Christmas Present (part 2)

P.S. Please do not take this as a guarantee that I will not attempt to post at least one Christmas Special this year – you have no grounds for legal action!


8 thoughts on “The Twelve Posts of Christmas

  1. Christmas is like religion. I may not choose to follow it, but I heartily approve of everyone else’s right to! Best wishes Colin. Mince pies I can accept any time!

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  2. I am the Grinch, I am old Mr Scrooge, I hate Christmas for its consumerism, I hate opening presents knowing full well that the contents will be shite and unwanted, like the silent dog whistle I received one year from a relative who knows me well enough to know that I’ve never owned a dog, and am unlikely to ever own a dog. Why ask me what I want for Christmas if you are not going to give me the book token that I asked for, instead of a second silent dog whistle! Christmas… Bah, humbug!

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  3. Ah Colin I love Christmas. It takes me back to when I was a boy…Dad would strangle a sparrow bare handed on Christmas Eve and we all would pluck it together. I was a happy plucker when I was a child. We’d leave Santa a drink…well a puddle as we couldn’t afford cups and glasses. Christmas day was a feast! Roast sparrow and two Brussel sprouts to feed a family of ten. Happy days….


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