‘Hands up, who loves Christmas?’

It’s the most loved or dreaded season of the year, depending on who you’re asking

Jumper by Forward, Always at The Union Project

Today I had my first mulled wine of the season and it was delightful. In great contrast with last week when I was ready to throw in the life towel, it appears all I need to get my enjoyment level back up is to hold a hiccupping baby and drink a glass of fruit infused alcohol. (Not, I hasten to add, at the same time.) The aforementioned non-manger relegated infant belongs to a dear friend – don’t worry, I didn’t get pregnant without telling you – and he somehow melted away the heaviness of an otherwise difficult season. And yes, the wine I had later also helped.

I’m told my parents did the whole tree and presents thing when I was very young, but since they inconveniently divorced when I was four, I have no recollection of it. From then, up until I was about 12, we attended a church which paid zero attention to Christmas, therefore robbing my siblings and me of the opportunity to believe not only in Jesus but also in a benevolent fat man who attended the houses of people wealthy enough to have working fireplaces.

Even when we moved churches in my early teens, Christmas never became a tradition solidified in Mumma’s house. Occasionally when we went to stay with Dad where he lived in the Middle East, we would see glimpses of the extravagant Christmas that was put on for Western expats who needed to pretend they weren’t living in a nation under Sharia law. But it still never felt real for me. I wanted a family Christmas with a turkey centrepiece, tacky tinsel (don’t worry, I’ve changed), and games played around the fireplace we didn’t have.

Getting married exposed me to this kind of Christmas. My ex ma-in-law was as obsessed with Christmas as I am; the difference being she had been playing host for years and had designated crockery, candles, glassware and traditions. With my then husband’s family, I was exposed to pigs in blankets and red cabbage. I realised I liked mince pies (GF ofc) and the crème de le crème: brandy butter. Is there anything sweeter? I come from a teetotal family and despite my frequent references to drinking champagne while dancing on tables, my alcohol imbibing is pretty low…unless you count this unnecessary and wildly decadent dessert accessory. And because my then husband had young nieces and nephews, I got to see the excitement (and yes later tantrums because: sugar) as they ripped open the many presents they received from adoring family members. Is anything more magical than when viewed through the wide eyes of a delighted child?

Mulled wine love came later when I did my ski season and realised it basically involved chucking cheap red wine into a slow cooker along with orange, cinnamon, cloves and sugar. Voila! Vin chaud!

I’m very easily lured by sensory associations so the smell of warming vin chaud and logs from an actual fireplace still makes me feel calm and cosy. Since being divorced and with an unexceptionally tricky relationship with still non-Christmas-practicing parents, I’ve largely used my limited experience of my perfect Christmas to enjoy the season in a way that seems healthy to me.

I’m always amused when friends complain about having to spend time with their families at Christmas. The chore. Sorry, you won’t get any sympathy from me. For the most part, as adults, we get to choose how we spend the one nationally accepted Sabbath of the year. If you don’t want to spend it with your family; don’t. I once dated someone who volunteered for Crisis at Christmas; supporting the homeless with food and shelter. He admitted it was partly altruistic and partly because he couldn’t bear to spend two days with his blood family. Lol. One of my friends says she couldn’t care less about Christmas so she always travels to avoid the hype in the lead up and then casually swans back in on a Christmas Day flight (and thank God for the airline and travel staff who choose to be around for Santa-averse globe trotters like my friend).

I’ve spent the last two Christmases alone – hold the violins – and while it’s not been by choice, I’ve learned to embrace it. The thing is, I don’t want people to feel sorry for me and invite me to celebrate with them out of pity. I know I have a fussy diet and a taste for fancy festive outfits that some Christmas-jumper-wearing traditions simply cannot compute. Anyone who has ever had an invitation that starts, ‘You can come and spend it with us if you like!’, or, ‘Mum won’t mind an extra person around the table!’ is either tone deaf to British culture or is using it to ensure a polite decline. A kinder way to invite someone to anything is to have them on the list to begin with, not as an afterthought. I’m probably more sensitive to most about this but otherwise this kind of invitation inadvertently feels as though I’m an inconvenience, albeit a tolerable one.

When I lived in London, a friend’s family seamlessly added me to their Christmas celebrations not by asking if I wanted to come but by telling me what time breakfast was starting (salmon and eggs followed by jollof and chicken since you asked) and emailing me the children’s Christmas wish list. Of course I could have said no, but I wasn’t invited as a guest, I was invited as part of the family and that made such a difference to me.

When I grow up (ha) I plan to have the big house with the fireplace I dreamt of as a child. And I will fill it with mince pies, brandy butter, pigs in blankets, red cabbage as well as jollof rice and plantain, some spicy Nigerian soups, champagne and mulled wine. There will be babies and children, moody teenagers, single people, married people, couples having s_x without a label (they need so much love) and partnerships. I want to fill my home with the kind of atmosphere I know is more screenplay than reality but remains what I want to create for what is otherwise a pretty dismal time of year. And no it won’t be perfect and there may well be accidents and tantrums. But if nothing else, there will be joy. (Tinsel however, will be banned.)

How will you be spending Christmas this year?

Tola x