How do you do ladies and gentlemen.
“And so this is Christmas”, as the Lennon Christmas song begins. Here in the Algarve the weather is definitely summery. Temperatures are in the high teens in the shade, so I shall record this in the garden.
I used to live in England. It’s wet and cold there, and what is even worse, it’s dark and dreary in deepest december in the UK. I dont like the cold, and there is something especially dreary about those dark days. I remember Billy Connolly telling a story about coming back to Scotland from Australia. He and his family came out of the airport into a Scottish winter, and his son said, “Daddy, why is the sky so low?”
That is something I’ve often wondered. Somehow, in the UK the sky is rather nervous. It tends to hide behind clouds, almost as if it is afraid to show itself.
These days I tend to go south for the winter and so I miss Christmas, and the kids have grown up and scattered around the world, so there is nobody to get excited in the morning and dive under the christmas tree to bag the presents.
However, the other day someone asked me what I was going to do for this christmas. I said I’d probably sort out something when we got there, only to be laughed at. “But christmas is this weekend. Aren’t you leaving things a bit late?”
I dont know whether you’ve noticed, but I find christmas tends to come earlier than expected most years, and although one has been stumbling over it in the shops it for weeks and weeks, it still somehow arrives unexpectedly early.
These days it’s hardly worth escaping further south as the weather here at this time of the year is superb. Here’s a spin round the skyline. Tell me if you spot a cloud.
And here are some of the roses in the garden. I love the way this particular rose has the three colours displayed across three roses: the rich deep yellow; the light yellow; and the almost white
And of course, the oranges are all out now
.I was wondering what to do this year. Without Julie I tend not to think about such matters. Our last christmas together was how I like it. It was totally unexpected.
As usual, we went somewhere where they dont celebrate such things. We were in that odd area between the Sahara desert and the Atlantic ocean.
We were in what used to be called Spanish Sahara, but still has to make up its mind where it is today. The sun was shining. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The ghastly sound of White Christmas sung by Bing Crosby was nowhere to be heard, and so all was sweetness and light.
We came back to the hotel to hear a great rumpus in one of the rooms in the garden. Intrigued, we opened the door and peeped in.
We were immediately asked to join the throng. It was a christmas party with accompanying religious ceremony. That wasn’t what we’d expected. In other words, christmas had unexpectedly caught us up and embraced us. We sat and listened to the joyous songs. I didn’t recognise any of them, but the rest of the company bellowed out the choruses while the verses were sung by a few folks at the front, while at least I could hum the tune by verse two and join in the third chorus. It was like a gospel meeting with the object of the exercise being to make as much noise, and have as much fun as possible.
Then someone got up and gave the Christmas sermon which was quite amusing in places. I’d expected the service to be in Spanish but the sermon was in French.
And then we set to with the refreshments.
It was one of the nicest christmases we’d celebrated. And what was especially nice is the fact that it was so unexpected.
That appeals to me. I have, most of my life, been a bum. I always used to say that the best thing about my life was that I never new where I’d be or what I’d be doing tomorrow on the next day.
This christmas what will I be doing? Probably remembering those christmases past.
I especially remember a particular christmas time in West London.
I was at the time living with Frances. I was in a band, and we were playing gigs most of the week. But we had nothing booked for christmas eve, the kids were teenagers and keen to do their own thing, and Frances and I decided to do our meagre christmas shopping. I dont think we wanted to buy anything. We just fancied wandering aimlessly around the shops, people watching.
I remember passing the houses with their christmas decorations, fancy lights, and mock sleighs on the roofs, but one window was different. There was a big sign pinned to the window saying Happy Birthday Jesus.
I was so surprised I stopped the car. I dont think I have ever seen that sign before or since, yet isn’t that what the whole kerfuffle is supposed to be about? Isn’t it a celebration of the birthday of what has become a rather important icon in many parts of the world?
I drove on and we parked outside some supermarket, I forget which. We went in, and ducked under the bunting and coloured paper bells, and wandered around. The place was half empty, but I almost bumped into an old lady who was staring at something.
I grinned at her and said “Happy Birthday, Gran”.
She looked at me oddly. “My birthday’s in october.”
“Ah, but tomorrow is Jesus’s birthday.”
“I know, but I cant afford to get him a present.”
I grinned and watched her pick something up and stare at it for a long time.
“Do you like it?”
“Nice, isn’t it?”
“Would you like it?”
She didn’t say anything, but it was obvious she really liked it and wanted to buy it, but presumably couldn’t afford it.
I had this picture in my mind of that notice in the window. I took the item, smiled at her, and said, “Come on, let’s go to the check out.” And I shepherded her towards the tills.
“Jesus is dead, so the present’s for you instead. Happy Birthday Gran.”
As I left the shop she was just standing there looking at it.
It’s the first time I’d really thought about the meaning of giving presents at Christmas time. It’s such a simple and sweet gesture to give someone a present on someone else’s birthday.
Okay guys. Have a great day, and dont forget to be nice. Someone has to these days or we are all done for.