why are you playing christmas songs in october

I love Christmas.


No I don’t.

I love the lead up to Christmas. The actual day usually falls far shorter than what I imagined it could be. And I've had 45 of them and none have fulfilled my dream Christmas Day. So I should have learnt by now from other lessons in life. But I keep dreaming, and hoping, and saving.

I usually imagine a freezing cold crisp clear morning. A stunning blue sky with a cold piercing sun barely having an influence on the zero temperature.

Excited kids stumbling down the pine staircase of a snowed in ski lodge rented for the holiday. Complete with a roaring log fire and open plan kitchen dining area. The family is dressed in red fluffy pyjamas with snowflakes on the front - each unique of course.

A playful red setter bounces with Christmas enthusiasm. Doggy smell free with brushed auburn fur and respectful breakfast-table manners. When we sit for food so will she. Patiently waiting for bacon scraps.

tilly2tone will not complain about the dog being fed from the table.

There is not a cup of eggnog in site. Just chilled sparkles or freshly squeezed orange juice complete with pulp. The kids love the pulp. The kids don't whine or complain about the pulp. The pulp is good.

Carols from Kings is on the stereo. Wham’s Last Christmas waits in the stream queue for when we all get bored of the culture and well pronouncing sopranos.

tilly2tone and I harmoniously cook breakfast. Bacon, hash browns, French toast, baked beans, button mushrooms, sausages and scrambled egg in the farm style kitchen. We synchronise our watches and dance our seemingly choreographed cooker routine until it all sizzles together and is ready to serve at the same time.

The bacon doesn't lose its flavour while being kept warm in the oven. The eggs don’t go rubbery while covered in foil. And the French toast remains hot and crispy rather than cold, limp and soggy.

so i can remind myself the words

After breakfast we all help to clear the table. Rinsing of plates is not necessary before being stacked in the dishwasher. They have all been licked clean by the kids.

tilly2tone will not complain about this. Nor will she complain about the dog licking clean the remaining breakfast dishes.

Christmas presents are unwrapped, delighted over and played with. Each is already assembled. Each have batteries that last the entire day. Each is shared with the other sibling without argument, physicality, or blood spill.

Parents retreat and relax.

Children happy and content.

Siblings, nephews, nieces, parents, grand parents, close friends and neighbours we are not feuding with are all coming for Christmas lunch.

Each bring a plate already designated so there is nothing to prepare. Hot food, cold Food. Starters, desserts. Mains, salads.


I have no idea how they get here. How it ties in with their own Christmas plans. Or where they will all park. But it’s a social gathering of favourited friends and family whether they celebrate the season or not.

Chat, laughter, merriment and song. It is joyous.

The day ends. The kids shower us with thanks for the presents and fall quickly asleep. tilly2tone and I snuggle back into our fluffy pyjamas. The fire continues to roar. The sparkles continue to flow. A feel good Christmas movie begins.

Die Hard.

We watch till the end. We ignore FaceBook. We Instagram the left overs.


Remind me to write about an actual Christmas Day for comparison. I’ll need a good deal of notice, a bottle of sparkles, and hindsight for clarity and acceptance that it wasn’t all that bad.

and not look like a twat when band aid comes on Leek o x o {now go and listen to something lovely: chris rea driving home for christmas}