Behave, Santa’s watching

The art of... getting Christmassy
Christmas comes but once a year but it certainly likes to make an impact. It’s an event which enjoys a fair old build up as well.

The streets are glowing with holly-shaped lights by November, the shops are full of festive food in August and the present requests start arriving in January.

But I don’t really start to feel Christmassy until the day we get a tree and in our house we like to go for it on December 1. I prefer real ones but fake can be just as lovely to look at. Like most fellas, I can’t help but stare and go doey-eyed when either kind begin flashing.

For some reason we always buy one of those trees which are a lot bigger than you thought they were when you get them home. It usually takes me half an hour or so to hack off a small forest so it fits in the corner and we can still get up the stairs.

With Christmas songs playing in the background we decorate the front room with gay abandon. Saving the environment can wait as we wrap lights around anything near a socket and leave them on even when we’re out.

By the time you’re halfway through your advent calendar the works do should be out of the way with the written warning winging its way through the internal post. As you watch TV adverts for three for two book deals and re-releases of greatest hits albums which were never really that great, you’re reminded of what this is all about, the birth of Christ.

With the big day edging nearer Christmas songs fill the air and I especially love the sound of carols, in particular my mate’s aunty Carol who used to live a few doors down from us. I tell you what, she might just have made it to boot camp if she’d tried out for the “X Factor”.

For me though, more than anything else, that Christmassy feeling is triggered when I notice a rapid increase in the use of the “Father Christmas behaviour threat”.

“He’s watching, you know, and he’s not impressed.” is already being used quite a lot in our house and my wife even pretends to ring him if anyone’s behaviour gets too bad.

Fear is a persuasive force so despite the rumours questioning his existence, and a nagging feeling that I didn’t actually see her press any buttons on the phone, I tend to fall into line pretty quickly.

I’ve been banging on about my “main present” since January so it’s not a chance I’m willing to take.


Next week . . . The Art of Posing.