Christmas: meh to mesmerisation, merriment to moderation


I was musing last night on the difference between the Christmas Eves of childhood and the Christmas Eves of adulthood. These are not supposed to be hard and fast rules or even, perhaps, applicable to the majority of people, just observations of how the changes in a person can be measured against a constant.

So:

Christmas Eve night as an infant: excitement though no clue what’s going on, lots of colours on the ceiling. Meh.

Christmas Day: wake up and return to sleep in semi-regular bursts throughout the day because that’s how one rolls.

Christmas Eve night as a child: excitement of Christmas, wonderment of potential presents, inability to sleep, plotting with one’s brother how to sneak through the house to bust Santa in the act of depositing presents.

Christmas Day: spring from bed at five a.m. and pester one’s parents.

Christmas Eve night as a teenager: excitement of Christmas, wonderment of potential presents, inability to sleep due to seemingly perpetual insomnia, the reassuring knowledge that Santa isn’t a big fat man in a conspicuous coat who must be pleased in order to receive gifts.

Christmas Day: slouch from bed at seven a.m. and pester one’s parents.

Christmas Eve night in one’s early twenties: excited carousing loosely predicated upon it being Christmas, loud pubs, rolling in at three a.m. with dirty take away food having paid through the nose for a taxi after midnight. Possibly passing out fully clothed.

Christmas Day: crawl from bed at ten a.m. at the behest of one’s parents. Endure the mother of all hangovers, communicating in pained grunts and attempting to stay away from bright lights.

Christmas Eve night in one’s early thirties: civilised consumption of alcoholic beverages in a not-too-loud environment where one can mull upon the world with one’s other, now cultured friends. Try to acquire take away food involving salad. Go home before the taxis hike their fares. Sit in bed ‘til three a.m. watching the teevee and drinking water so that there will be no hangover the following day.

Christmas Day: get up at nine a.m. feeling fine and spend time with one’s parents having coherent conversation. Take pleasure in both the lack of hangover and the company of kin, the presents having become a secondary if not tertiary concern.

I’ve got no comment on the rest of the Christmas behavioural pattern, having not been there yet, but in the meantime

Merry Christmas :):-

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