2020 Door Thirteen: Coloured Lights

Coloured Lights

Green for our tree (who cares that it’s fake),
And also for Brussels sprouts, left on the plate;

Blue for the cold, the ice and the frost,
The absence, the space left by those that we’ve lost;

Red for Saint Nicholas, or Barry’s hat,
Cold noses, candy canes, our homemade jam;

And…

Yellow? For all the white wine that we’ll drink?
Orange for Christingle? Bronze turkey skin?

No: Gold, for all of the joy and the riches,
Of our first altogether, ‘new normal’ Christmas.

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This Christmas obviously isn’t going to be like any other – or certainly not for me, anyway. Normally it follows the same pattern that’s it followed my entire life – home on Christmas Eve, mulled wine, Muppet Christmas Carol, little snooze, Midnight Mass, Christmas Morning, stockings, late breakfast, queue for the shower, and either everyone down to my Aunt and Uncle’s or all of them up to us. And then, a similarly traditional two-and-a-half days of dinner, party games, drinks, presents, drinks, supper, Tip It, and bed. And let’s be honest, that’s a pretty bloody good Christmas.

Now, in the era of coronavirus, second-waves, social distancing and global instability, it’s no surprise that some things have gotta give – if not all of the above. Tip It, in particular, really isn’t going to work: When was the last time you subtly passed a hazelnut* to someone at least two metres away from you?

But, nevertheless, it’s Christmas. And I’m really excited, albeit in a fairly bittersweet way – I won’t be seeing much of my Mum, Dad or brothers, and even less of my Aunt, Uncle, cousins and families. Instead, me and Luci will be having a whole Christmas together for the first time, and that’s going to be proper special – although her opinion on this may differ depending on how much of a cock-up I make of dinner…

I’ve never cooked Christmas Dinner myself, either, so that’s going to be another exciting first. I mean, I’ve peeled potatoes, stuffed turkeys, taken things out of ovens (and I’m pretty good with brandy butter, providing you like it strong enough to subdue Brian Blessed) but I’ve never really overseen the whole meal before. So for that reason, and so many others, this is going to be a Christmas like no other, and – with all respect and love to those I won’t be seeing – I am really excited for it.

We put our tree up yesterday. It’s not a real one, which is unusual for me, but as per my suggestion it’s got coloured fairy lights on it, which is unusual for Luci. Christmas is all about compromise, right? But it looks beautiful, of course, and Lu’s spent most of today commenting on how nice the multicoloured lights look. So that’s a win for the Collins School of Interior Design (I’m still trying to convince her on the tinsel though. I’ll keep you posted.)

We do have a real tree on the front doorstep, albeit a mini-one, with some lights on, as well as a nice array of illuminations on the front of the house (that was Luci’s doing) so we really are ticking all boxes in the Ashbourne-Collins-Roberts-Chesterman household this year.

By the way, if you’re wondering what that picture is in the background, it’s a Paul Catherall print of the much-missed Welbeck Street Car Park. Remind me to tell you a story about it sometime.

Anyhow, today’s Door – I thought I’d do an ode to the Christmas lights that look so pretty on our tree, and it turned into a sort of colour-version of those ‘A is for…’ children’s alphabet poems you get. I quite like that about it, and it could probably be longer, but I’m both running out of time and slightly too tired to think of too many more Christmassy things of each shade of the spectrum.

Before I go, an uncharacteristically serious bit: So many people have lost loved ones this year – there’s tens of thousands of families preparing for their first Christmas without someone they hold dear – and so many of those losses could’ve been avoided, if we hadn’t elected an utter maniac a year and a day ago. But there will be many more to come, I fear, and plenty of those could be avoidable too. So if you’re in two minds about sticking to the rules this Christmas, please just be sensible – it’s worth missing one Christmas with your loved ones if it means you get many more with them in the years to come. It’s been a year of sacrifices, but it will all be worthwhile when this bloody virus is banished to the pages of history textbooks (where hopefully Boris Johnson and his posse of liars, crooks and lunatics will be a mere footnote.)

Wow, that was heavy, wasn’t it? Pour yourself a Sunday night nightcap and enjoy some poetry. We’re past the halfway point again – not long now, my friends…

Be kind. Eleven days to go…

Owen x

*(not a euphemism…)