Today I'm thrilled to be joined on the blog by Carina author, Annie Lyons, to talk about her perfect Christmas.
My Perfect Christmas
I love Christmas. I mean really love it. There can never be
enough tinsel, too many fairy lights or sufficient sausages wrapped in bacon
wrapped in sausages and so on for me.
I want it to be perfect too. I want snow to fall, chestnuts
to roast on an open fire and there to be peace and goodwill to all people.
Of course, deep down I know that these things won’t happen,
that roasted chestnuts are actually a bit dry, that in my forty one years on
this earth, it hasn’t snowed once at Christmas and that you only have to turn
on the News to see that peace and goodwill are a little way off.
Still, I think it’s important to hope and to believe.
That’s
actually what Christmas is about for me – the excitement is in the build-up,
the thrill of expectation before the reality of the actual day – a lovely
reality, but not quite like the dream.
With this in mind and for your festive delight, here are the
dreams and reality of my own Christmas.
The Dream
The weeks before Christmas are enjoyed at a leisurely pace.
I have been making thoughtful home-made presents since September. All the gifts
are purchased by the end of November, cards written in the first week of
December and everything wrapped by the 10th.
I attend lots of wonderful Christmas parties wearing a
different amazing dress and shoe combination to each one. I always dance in a stylish and dignified
manner and leave at a sensible hour. I never have a hangover.
On Christmas Eve, I watch The Snowman snuggled up with my children and let the Christmas
spirit wash over me. In the evening, I watch It’s a Wonderful Life with my husband, weeping over the ending
because this is what Christmas is all about. I go to bed early so that I am on
sparkling form the next day.
Christmas Day is sheer bliss. The children sleep in until
eight, they open their stockings, which are filled with thoughtful and useful
presents. We sit on the bed enjoying a family breakfast of croissants and
coffee. No crumbs are made or jammy fingerprints left on the duvet.
My husband cooks the most magnificent Christmas dinner and
we sink into post-lunch happiness, watching a film, playing games and supping
on Champagne.
By the evening we are sleepy, happy and possibly a couple of
the other seven dwarves as well. We fall into bed feeling content and very
lucky.
The Reality
The weeks before Christmas are endured in a screaming panic.
I have been making thoughtful home-made presents since the 18th of December
and the remains of my Christmas Chutney are still welded to the counter-top
like the some kind of evil super-glue. I order the last present from Amazon on
the 23rd of December and still refuse to pay for postage, praying to
the god of super-saver deliveries for benevolence. The presents are all wrapped
by 2 am on Christmas Day.
I have one Christmas party to attend along with a rising
panic about what to wear. I do not own any amazing dresses and the last time I
wore my posh shoes, I sustained a blister the size of a Jaffa Cake. I am always
the first on the dance floor and the last to leave. My hangover lingers for the
best part of a week.
On Christmas Eve, I watch The Snowman snuggled up with my children. By the end, we are all
sobbing and my son is wailing, ‘Why do you make us watch this EVERY year?’
In the evening, I watch It’s
a Wonderful Life with my husband, weeping over the fifty or so presents of
varying size and shape still to wrap, and the fact that apparently this is what
Christmas is all about. I feel the spirit of a bad back and sore shoulders wash
over me as we head to bed around
2.30 am utterly exhausted.
Christmas Day is weary bliss. The children sleep in until
six, they open their stockings filled with lots of plastic and useless presents
and we enjoy a hundred weight of sweets, chocolate and coffee for breakfast.
There is an alarming brown stain left on the duvet, which I ignore.
My husband cooks the most magnificent Christmas dinner and
we sink into post-lunch torpor, watching a film, playing games and supping on
Champagne.
By the evening we are sleepy, happy and possibly a couple of
the other seven dwarves as well. We fall into bed feeling content and very
lucky.
May your Christmas dreams and reality be similarly
wonderful. Have a happy one, my friends!
After leaving university, Annie Lyons decided
that she 'rather liked books' and got a job as a bookseller on Charing Cross
Road, London.
Two years later she left the retail world and continued rather
liking books during an eleven-year career in publishing.
Following redundancy
in 2009 she realised that she would rather like to write books and having
undertaken a creative writing course, lots of reading and a bit of practice she
produced Not Quite Perfect.
She now
realises that she loves writing as much as coffee, not as much as her children
and a bit more than gardening.
She has since written another two novels and is
about to start work on her fourth. She lives in a house in south-east London
with her husband and two children.
The garden is somewhat overgrown.
One day
she hopes to own a chocolate-brown Labrador named John and have tea with Mary
Berry.
Loved this, The first is exactly my ideal Christmas. The second is close on my Christmas only the kids have grown up and one is left at home, who still gets us up at six Christmas morning. I cook the dinner with a little help from hubby otherwise spot on!
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your day Gill! X
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