I looked up the correct term for what I experience at this time of year. It’s ‘rebel psychological reactance’, ie not liking being told what to do which, to be fair, is what happens all year round. Articles such as ‘The 12 rules of Christmas cooking’ (the other day in the Guardian, hence the Guardianesque punctuation) and radio discussions of this year’s top trend for your table setting (Woman’s Hour, R4, a few years ago, I’m still scarred) cause my stomach to knot. Not because I’m worried about following ‘the rules’, but because I know I immediately want to break every single one.
[As Lola might say, I will never, not ever, have a tasteful Christmas tree]
I have never cooked and never will cook a turkey, nor will I ever cook a goose, or a duck, or a shoulder or leg of any animal on Christmas Day. I don’t need permission to not have a starter. I don’t need bossy articles telling me what I should and shouldn’t do on Christmas Day. It can be wearying even skim-reading this crap year after year after year.
Why not just forget the food/table rules, stop worrying about what others eat/might think, and cook what you actually like? The world will not come to an end if you have fish fingers and chips, Mexican food, Palestinian food, pancakes, gyozas, pizzas, curries, burgers or a barbecue. I know, because we’ve done all of these, and we are still here. I like making and eating Christmas cake so we have a couple, but I have a violent dislike of cinnamon and my screwed-up face when I’ve eaten something with it in by mistake is now a Christmas fixture/laughing point. (When did cinnamon invade everything to the point where I pretty much dislike most of the smells and tastes of commercial Christmas?)
And yet, you wouldn’t believe how often people are shocked - even more than surprised - when you explain that you just don’t do the traditional stuff. It’s not as though there is a legal obligation to stockpile sprouts and sticky drinks. But if that’s what you really, really like, then I’m all for sprouts braised in Cointreau (jk).
The point is that, there are as many ways to celebrate Christmas (that’s assuming you do want to - I’m all for cancelling it altogether, if that works better) as there are, oh I don’t know, ways to live your life. Lockdown Christmases illustrated this very clearly when it became obvious what the really important things are.
[I’ll be watching this on repeat]
All I need, apart from love and the Beatles, is people, something to eat, warmth, light, Bananagrams, a few books, Elf and Paddington 2.
[detail of the cheery Nativity window in St Nicholas, Potterspury]
When I was writing my blog years ago, I had a self-imposed rule that I wouldn’t write about Christmas. So the above is more than enough.
Let’s move onto the here and now. I just want to say thanks to everyone who has subscribed to and reads this newsletter. It turns out Phoebe’s suggestion to start writing again was a good one for me; as happened with the blog, it makes me look for the positive, funny, enjoyable, beautiful things in life.
[Just thinking about the Molesworth books can make me laugh]
Of course, my life is not all Fotherington-Thomas ‘hello clouds! hello sky!’, but I’ve discovered that I don’t actually like writing in a negative way; it’s easy, but it doesn’t do me any good and it doesn’t make me feel any better. It’s just as wearying as I imagine writing Christmas rules to be.
I also need to let you know that I read every comment so thank you also for those. To respond to a few:
Podcast recommendations - thank you. I like some of the Backlisted podcasts, and love the France Culture Proust centenary podcasts, especially with Céleste Albaret
I would recommend LCBA and City Lit bookbinding courses (online and in person). I use quite thick thread eg Sajou Lin Cablé 332
Walter Miller’s book, and George Perec and his monumental list work, which sounds like Mass Observation or spy games our children used to play, will both be investigated
The Lost Pianos of Siberia is brilliant and powerful. Just finished it
I haven’t yet done a talk on stained glass by Zoom or in London, but they are possibilities
I hope that, whatever you choose to do over Christmas, you have a good time, and may all your Christmas cacti flower.
There probably won’t be a newsletter on Sunday, January 1st but if there is, it won’t be full of New Year’s resolutions. Quelle surprise, I have ‘rebel psychological reactance’ to those, too.
Joyeux Noël!
Dear Jane, years ago on Yarnstorm you wrote three paragraphs on Christmas that I saved and reread every year. This is my favorite bit, which has inspired my own Christmas list and pace: “There is white wine in the fridge, clementines in bowls, paperwhite narcissi being brought into flower on a cool windowsill, a pile of good books to read, a stash of Green & Black's sea salt chocolate, and several Christmas cakes absorbing brandy before being iced. There will be stockings with shiny pound coins and useful small presents (no tat, by request), bracing walks, fresh air swims in our favourite pool, fruit and veg from real greengrocers, old films, cheap crackers, and minimal fuss.”
And: I’m thrilled to have your words back in my life. Thank you for writing for us!
Thank you for finding and sharing beautiful things. Your pieces are becoming one of the cherished consolations of modern life.