Why Christmas Celebrations are in Full Swing Already
There will always be those who start to feel the itch the first days after Halloween. The dog-eared box calls to them from the cellar with its siren song, “fa la la la la”. Despite the best judgement of friends, neighbours and family members, these people dive down the stairs, surfacing again wrapped in tentacles of tinsel and tangled fairy lights. By November’s second week, accented by the groans of their loved ones, their halls are well and truly decked.
Like most of civilised society, I do not fall into this group. Unfortunately, as a European, I don’t have Thanksgiving to point towards when I scream, “not yet!” at the sight of twinkling reindeer in early November. But overall, we encounter fewer “Christmas crazies” on this side of the Atlantic, so my bursts of outrage are generally kept to single digits.
This year, however, is different. Eager Whos haven’t been met with the usual vitriol. In fact, they’ve been joined by even some of the staunchest grinches. Naysayers have erected sparkling firs and curtain twitchers have swapped the drapes for candy-striped ones. I myself, writing this on the 3rd December, can glance up to admire the specially bought gaudy ornaments scattered all over my flat. The pandemic relaxed the rules for what’s acceptable in public and private, including Christmas festivities.
This year, we need all the cheer we can get, which might be why people are reaching for the mulled wine early (aside from the alcohol content). After the worst year many of us can remember, retreating to the childhood comfort of colourful and cheerful tack is cathartic. Even Melania Trump has been overcome with the spirit of the season (can’t imagine why), trading in her usual “dystopia but make it glam” aesthetic for an uncharacteristically warm, traditional look. I guess anything really can happen in 2020.
Christmas is like a warm, cinnamon-smelling comfort filled with booze, food and, most importantly this year, good tidings. The decorations that reach outside our homes — the lights in the window, the Father Christmas hanging from our gutters — are the corona-month-ten version of singing from our balconies. They connect us with people we would usually pass during present-shopping, or on the way to a party, during a season where we’re prevented from doing that in real life.
It also marks the end of this god-forsaken year. Something everyone is looking forward to.
