winter - Debbie Young's Writing Life

The Tyranny of the Christmas Card

Posted on December 30, 2010July 18, 2016 by Debbie Young

Well, that’s it, I’m finally ready Christmas. It’s just a pity that Christmas couldn’t wait a little longer for me.

On December 1st, the inescapable countdown begins, and my heart sinks a little lower with every passing day. No, not the countdown to Christmas Day – opening presents and eating too much I can cope with. What I dread is the arrival of the last posting date for Christmas cards.

Always, I buy my cards in plenty of time for that deadline, picking up tany that strike my fancy as and when I see them. I’m very particular, avoiding anything fluffily sentimental or inappropriately commercial. Favourite designs are those depicting snowy postboxes (ironic, considering my aversion) because I live in an old post office, wintry Cotswold scenes reminiscent of my own village, and anything at all in support of my favourite charity, the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF).

I spend a great deal of time thinking about the friends and relations I’ll be sending them to, fondly recalling their last year’s Christmas message, wondering how this year has treated them, and selecting snippets of my news to tell them. But my inspiration always falls at inappropriate times when I don’t have a Christmas card to hand – driving in the car, pushing a trolley round the supermarket, submerged in the bath.

Meanwhile the blur that is Advent begins, with a rush of Christmas shopping, nativity plays, carol concerts, and parties at home, school and work. In such a social whirlwind, it’s all I can do to keep the household running smoothly, with quick pit-stops between events. And I like to get the house extra clean and tidy so that it’s a more pleasant place in which to spend the extended holiday. The house doesn’t dust itself, you know (contrary to my husband’s apparent belief).

Around 5th December, I make a start on the cards, transferring my stockpile from my Christmas cupboard (well, it gives me the illusion of being prepared) to my desk. Then I amass my various address books, paper and electronic, and the writing process begins.

The people who are only due a simple greeting message get priority treatment. Those meriting a letter are set aside to be picked off one at a time later, in reverse order of the likely length of the letter. Thus the friends to whom I plan to send the longest letters receive theirs last of all. They may appear to suffer from the greatest neglect, but my intentions for them are of the very best.

This year, they’ve had to wait a very long time indeed. I know myself better these days than to stock up on Christmas second-class stamps. I accept that the second class posting deadline will have come and gone long before my cards are ready to send. First class it will have to be. But what I really need this year is some sort of uber-first-class, a time-travelling stamp that can make a card posted after Christmas Day arrive a few days beforehand. Only today have I finally finished and posted the final card, slinking furtively up to the pillarbox, slipping them through the slot as guiltily as if despatching a signed confession.

This year, I’m thankful that any friends who don’t read my blog may just blame the snow for the delay in receiving a card from me. When my missive finally arrives, they may be glad to have belated proof that I’m not dead. But my honest nature compels me to confess my inadequacy.

By chance, one of the cards I chose this year had a 12 Days of Christmas theme. I’m hoping that recipients will pick up the subliminal message that the festive season doesn’t officially end till January 6th. That would left me off the hook.

However, sufficient is my chagrin to make me resolve to do better next year. Some people I know start their Christmas shopping in the January sales. Maybe I should resolve to start writing my 2011 Christmas cards the moment the new year dawns.

Happy New Year, everyone. No, actually, make that Merry Christmas!

Family, Personal life

A Winter Makeover

Posted on December 28, 2010July 18, 2016 by Debbie Young

Overnight my garden has had a makeover. When I opened the bedroom shutters this morning, I discovered my garden had turned green.

I should have anticipated this transformation last night, when I went out to collect some firewood from the shed and heard an unfamiliar noise on the conservatory roof: a soft, persistent drumming. I was given a clue as to its identity: wet slippers.

“My goodness, it’s rain!,” I cried aloud. “I remember rain! ”

It was a very welcome sound, not least because it meant it was no longer cold enough for snow. There followed the rush of relief that a cloudburst must bring to drought-ridden nations. I told myself briskly not to be melodramatic – in my case, the arrival of rain was hardly a life-saver.

Even so, the sight of a verdant garden this morning was a delight after weeks of the monochrome of snow. For a moment I was Dorothy, opening the door of her black-and-white house, air-lifted by the Kansas tornado, to find the glorious technicolour land of Oz. I’d forgotten how green my garden could be in the middle of winter. Yes, there are rusting remains of sweetcorn and sunflower stalks, but these are eclipsed by bright and copious ivy, glossy grass and the ever-optimistic leaves of spring bulbs.

The experience felt like a mini Winterval celebration, a welcome reminder in the darkest depths of December, at the time of the shortest nights, that the sun will return. It’s surely no coincidence that this Christmas, amid blanking piles of snow, more people than ever seem to have felt the need to put up colourful outdoor lights. I was no exception.

I began Advent with a string of soft white lights in the apple tree in front of my house. Nothing garish for me, I decided, sifting through B&Q’s festive offerings. But when I got home, I discovered that against an all-white backdrop, my subtle choice was insignificant. I swiftly added some magenta and royal blue Christmas tree baubles to the stark brown branches and was astonished by how many neighbours remarked favourably upon them. Then a few days before Christmas, I decamped from any attempt at good taste and strewed a string of brightly coloured fairy lights over the porch. Along with my candle arch in the living room window and the Christmas tree lights in the old shop window (my house used to be the village post office), these conspired to lift my spirits (and my core temperature) every time I went outside the front door.

When I was a child, we used to make a game of spotting lit-up Christmas trees on the walk home from tea at my grandparents’ houses. I’ve played that game every Christmas ever since, dismissing from my mind any prissy environmentally-friendly thoughts about wasting energy and causing light pollution. (Who wants to stargaze in sub-zero temperatures anyway?) Though caustic about the first one I spotted in mid-November this year, by the time the snow fell I was going out of my way to seek them out.

One night when leaving my sister’s house, I braved ice-packed sidestreets to investigate a glow of near-daylight intensity. I followed the light, magi-like, to the end of a cul-de-sac, where four houses were festooned with enough flashing Santas and prancing reindeer to necessitate 24-hour sunglasses for the residents. It was worth the dangerous detour.

And now, mid-morning, there’s a fine mist descending, the teasing ghost of the snow that’s melted away. As spring steps up to the starting line, all that will be left is a white memory, dwindling to homeopathic strength. By the New Year, we’ll all be sighing nostalgically about how beautiful it was while it lasted, all thoughts of school closures, delayed mail order and car crashes forgotten. But even so, I’ll be very surprised if we’re craving a white Christmas next year. Here’s to colourful New Year!

Family, Personal life

Let It Glow

Posted on December 1, 2010July 18, 2016 by Debbie Young

A set of fluorescent Christmas lights — Image via Wikipedia

You don’t need me to tell you that the autumn colours have been fantastic this year. Each day late October, early November, I kept thinking “I really must bring my camera with me next time I’m out”. Everywhere I went, breathtaking treescapes of gold, amber and bronze, dramatic as fireworks, rose out of rich, dark, newly-ploughed hills. Then, overnight, they disappeared. Strong winds stripped the trees bare, leaving muddy heaps of compost at their feet. It was as if a herbicidal maniac had been on the rampage. Suddenly it was winter. The clocks had gone back. And it was dark.

My sense of loss at this overnight tragedy made me less dismissive than I might otherwise have been when a day or two later I spotted my first Christmas tree of the year in the front window of a house near my mum’s. Not only had the occupants put the tree up on the wrong side of Remembrance Day. They’d also sprayed lavish drifts of fake snow on the windowpanes, as if egging on the winter to do its worst. The shiny red stars and golden bells were a garish echo of the subtle russets and auburns of the departed autumn leaves, but boy, was it a cheery sight.

All at once I found myself looking forward to the rash of Christmas lights that would inevitably follow. Nothing cheers me in winter as much as bright lights. In a former life I must have been a Druid. For the rest of the year, my usual mantra is “Put that light out!” (So maybe I was once an ARP warden?) My husband and daughter treat our household like a Christmas tree all year round, in terms of lighting, and for the rest of the year, I go round turning unnecessary lights off, muttering disapproval. But when it comes to midwinter, I need a burst of light to stop me hibernating.

Certain local routes round here provide a real tonic at this season. Last year, the white-lit Christmas trees, hung proudly like flags above the shops through the centre of Tetbury, were as cheering to me as any Olympic opening ceremony. And who can resist the uplifting annual switching on of the Christmas lights? Passing by the Arboretum, I’ll slow down to savour the “shop window” for the Enchanted Wood, which revitalises bare trees with coloured floodlights. And just a little further down the Bath Road, there’s an ever-growing beacon that takes many by surprise. The first time I passed that way after dark, I was convinced that I was about to come across a major conflagration on the road ahead. I listened out for sirens, but there were none. Rounding the bend, I discovered it was actually just Willesley’s cattery and kennels in all their electric glory. Their furry residents must feel ever festive by Christmas Day.

In the past, I’ve shied away from too lavish a Christmas lighting scheme at my own home. Think Ikea candle arches, and you’ll get the picture. But this year, in the depths of this dark winter, I feel the need to throw caution to the winds. That’s appropriate enough, as my electricity comes from the wind-powered Ecotricity in Stroud. If their profits suddenly go up next quarter, you’ll know the reason why: I’m planning to splash out this year on the festive lighting front. Now, can anyone tell me the best place in Tetbury to buy an illuminated reindeer?

Wishing all Tetbury Advertiser readers a very merry Christmas, and a New Year filled with light. Let it glow, let it glow, let it glow…

(This post was originally published in the Tetbury Advertiser)

Family, Personal life

Giving Thanks for Thanksgiving

Posted on November 9, 2010July 18, 2016 by Debbie Young

“Shall I put some Christmas decorations up now, Mummy?”

My daughter has just put the Halloween decorations away in a box to be stored in the cellar till next October. She’s acquired quite a collection of plastic pumpkins in her seven years, each with a different feature – a ghoulish laugh, an integral torch, a battery-powered spooky judder. It made a surprisingly cheering montage in our front window.

Since Laura was tiny, we’ve enjoyed making seasonal displays that can be seen from the front path, echoing our house’s past as the village post office with a permanent shop window. Now that there’s a post-Halloween void, she’s itching to fill it.

“Wait until after Guy Fawkes Night,” I plead, taking a rare opportunity to dust and polish the bare windowledge.

Obediently, she potters off, humming a Christmas carol. I’m unwilling to fast-forward my thoughts to December, but I realise I’m unlikely to gain much of a stay of execution. We’ve already had to pack our Christmas shoeboxes for school and the Nativity Play has been cast.

“I’m going to be Mary!” piped up an excited voice as a throng of infants headed out of school on Guy Fawkes Night.

I appreciate their teachers need a long run-up to the festive season, to be sure that the children know all their lines in time. I just wish I didn’t feel compelled to rush in to December when November has barely begun. As it is – whoosh! not only will November hurtle by, but in no time at all 2010 will be a thing of the past, and we’ll be giving a nostalgic sigh each time we remember to write 2011 on a cheque.

What we really need is a late November festival to act as a brake on the speed of the year. Harvest Festival is long over, but there are still some leaves on the trees – why not an Autumn Leaf Fest to mark the baring of the skeletal trees, victims of the late November winds? Or a Winter Warmer Day, when everyone finally accepts that there is no Indian summer around the corner, stashes their cotton clothes in the back of the wardrobe, and dons their thermals for the first time. Or a pre-Christmas Purge, chucking out the old toys that haven’t been played with since last Christmas Day, clearing the decks ready for this season’s excesses. Any of these could fuel Laura’s passion for window displays and hedge off the onslaught of Advent.

How I envy the Americans their Thanksgiving Holiday – perfectly placed to fill the void between Guy Fawkes Night and Christmas. Would it seem churlish to celebrate it here too, as if we were glad to get those pesky Puritans off our soil?

Perhaps we can engineer an acceptable alternative of our own. After all, we have plenty else to be thankful for. And acknowledging our blessings might also serve to constrain the unnecessary excesses of the modern Christmas.

Happy November, everyone!

Personal life

Mix and Match

Posted on November 5, 2010July 18, 2016 by Debbie Young

Marks & Spencer — Image by jovike via Flickr

Checking my inbox today, I find it peppered with emails from clothing suppliers trying to persuade me to buy a new winter wardrobe. The thermometer having plummeted in the last few days, we’re all going to need our winter woollies by the time we come back from half term, so I take a look at what they’re offering.First on the list is a message from Marks and Spencer highlighting their new “coatigan” – a combination of a coat and a cardigan. It sounds just right for inbetweeny, Halloweeny weather.

I’ve never seen a coatigan, but I don’t need to. This portmanteau word conjures up a precise vision. I’m intrigued by the cross-breeding that fashion retailers believe is going on in our wardrobes. First came the skort (is it a skirt? Is it shorts?). Then last year the shoe-boot (no explanation necessary). This was swiftly followed by jeggings: the spawn of jeans and leggings. Whatever next?

If the trend continues, here are my predictions for your warmer winter wardrobe this season….

The Jumpover – as sleek as a jumpsuit but practical as an overall, this all-in-one outfit will keep the fashion-conscious woman clean but elegant while working around the house.

The Underall – not dissimilar to old-fashioned combinations, this underwear features the added benefit of practical overall-style pockets for storing essential tools.

The Shocking – a seamless, streamlined cross between high-heeled shoes and fishnet stockings for the girl who really wants to get noticed at the office Christmas party.

The Harf or Scat – a hat with scarf attached around the lower edge to avoid the annoying gap that lets the draught in between conventional hat and scarf sets.

But my favourite this winter will be Pyjippers – ending chilly ankles when I go down to make the tea first thing in the morning. I wonder if I can get them patented in time for Christmas?

(This post originally appeared in the November edition of the Hawkesbury Parish News.)