We’ve waited 11 months, that’s 334 entire days filled with sadness, anger, vapid amusement, tempered stress, and alcohol induced indifference, but finally December is upon us once again, meaning we can all be jolly once more.
There’s nothing like freezing weather to put that jovial twinkle in your eye. Sure, summer has sun and holidays and cocktails on the beach (or at the very least you can sit in the beer garden at the Hyde), but when you’re sweltering in the 30 degree heat-wave, the air-con is broken and you’re still having to carry a brolly around for the temperamental English rain, can you really say you’re feeling cheerful? In December you know it’s going to snow, the 43 will grind to a halt and you’ll end up having to trek your way home from Meadowhead, but it’s all good because you’re prepared, wrapped up in a woolly hat and scarf and a ridiculously festive jumper. You can’t feel your toes, but goddamn it you’ve got a smile on those wind-chapped lips of yours and you will enjoy yourself if it kills you.
The Christmas tree is up, the chestnuts are roasting on an open fire and Michael Buble’s Christmas album is on repeat, how can you not feel warm, cosy and overwhelmingly jubilant? Sure, your dad almost fell through the telly reaching up to put the star atop the tree, you’ve spent so long trying to unravel the lights that you fear it may in fact be next winter, and your mum keeps shouting at your little sister for scoffing the tree chocolates and breaking age old sentimental decorations – but it’s all good because it’s quality family time, something to laugh about, a seasonal story to tell.
You’ve got cards to write, deliver and feel devastated not to receive. You’ve got presents to wrap, give and feel devastated not to receive. You’ve got to figure out who’s going where and doing what for the big day. You spend more money on one meal than you’ve spent on Fat Sams for the last year. You know that come January you’re going to be skint, fat and seeing your well-thought-out gifts being listed on eBay. But there’s time to worry about that when it comes. For now, it’s December, and even though your nan is going to get ‘blindo’ on mulled wine and pass out before lunch, your parents will have a massive row over a pair of socks, and you and your best mate will fall out over where to start the Christmas Eve pub crawl, it’s all good because, as we’ve all been told, tis the season to be jolly, so be jolly we all shall be.