Christmas Day

 Christmas Day.

Across the dining rooms and kitchens of the world there is a breathless excitement. There is a suspended animation in the air, a real sense that everything has to be done properly and thoroughly. Besides, we've always done this every year without fail. But the familiarity of this day has always brought nothing but unalloyed pleasure. We plan for this day, organise it meticulously and then breathe a sigh of relief when it all comes together. Maybe we should do this day every day because everybody is happy, overwhelmingly so, delighted to be in the same company and it's unmistakably brilliant.

Yes folks. It's Christmas Day, a day of unashamed family unity and harmony, a day for smiling and laughing uninhibitedly, back slapping our parents, grandparents, cousins, aunties, uncles, friends and neighbours with the heartiest guffaws and a liberal sprinkling of giggles. We love Christmas Day because when we look out of our windows, the world has ground to a shuddering halt, the roads are more or less empty and if you do happen to spot a car on your travels, it feels like a major discovery.

In every house, flat, bungalow, cottage and maisonette, the good people of the world are waking up to rainbow coloured lights on their Christmas trees, tiny, winking bulbs that never fail to enchant, tinsel and glitter everywhere, huge boxes of presents and gifts and lively children. This is the essence of Christmas, our raison d'etre for everything we normally do on this day of all days, drinking and eating to our hearts content and then slumping into a contented, drunken stupor on our sofas. There can be no other explanation or justification for the way we just abandon ourselves to complete enjoyment. Go on let yourself go. 

Every year we survey the leftovers of turkey, roast potatoes and brussel sprouts and vow never to do it again because it's tiresome, tiring, labour intensive, stressful, a pain in the neck and time consuming. We cut up thousands of potatoes, basting the turkey until you can see your face in all of that vegetable oil and any other garnish you can get your hands on. At times it's all a bit messy and chaotic. All you want to do is to just slip  that hilarious Christmas hat made out of crepe, blow your party whistles and just watch the kids jumping up and down on the floor before then chasing each other gleefully upstairs and downstairs. It's a time honoured ritual and why should it ever change? It is, after all, Christmas.

For some of us though Christmas has always had nostalgic connotations for those who look fondly back to a time when TV had only three channels, colour TV was regarded as something of a novelty and the world never stopped fighting and going to war over petty things like territory and historical grudges. Now some things never change but it almost seems as though a peaceful truce had been negotiated so that all of us could just kick off our shoes, chuck our inhibitions in the waste paper bin and just enjoy Christmas.

Sadly, man will continue to be aggressive and violent because there can never be any room for compromise or an amicable settlement. The Middle East war and the raging conflicts in the Ukraine are more or less the common norm since this is humanity at its worst and the rest of us have to analyse the evil motives that lead to war. Perhaps we do our utmost to avoid confrontation and unforgivable murder and then reach a half way agreement or just a soothing reconciliation because the human race is slowly dwindling away and there can be no shaking of hands. Surely though we're better than that though.

But surely Christmas is a time for healing the bleeding wounds, speaking to each other in the same language with harmonious intent rather than blasting  each other to kingdom come. Christmas is a time for coming together, a binding force for the positive rather than bad and the foundation stone for goodwill. Of course it is a time for families but you probably know that anyway, for gathering around those who mean so much and telling them that tomorrow will be unforgettable. Rest assured there will be no petty bickering and quarrelling, no spite or malice and just watching loads of  festive TV movies featuring snow, Father Christmas and sleigh bells ringing throughout the globe.

Christmas films on the TV are just infused with sugar sweet sentimentality, happy ever after families who just grin at each other infectiously and then settle down for a full on session of present unwrapping without any hint of sarcasm or cynicism. The kids come bounding into their rooms full of the joys of winter with their latest electronic gadgets. We then indulge in all of those lovely old gluttonous habits, filling up our plates with mountains of turkey, stuffing, vegetables of your choice and just remember the days when Christmases from long ago were also triumphant, victorious, reasons to be permanently cheerful.

Sadly, some of us can't help but yearn wistfully for the TV staple masterpieces that we'll probably never see again. During the 1970s Morecambe and Wise represented the most exquisite entertainment any of us had ever seen. In those far off days we had very few alternatives when it came to light hearted comedy. Until 1982 Britain had only limited opportunities to express their innermost feelings. We had three channels and nothing else but then we pondered on the stunning genius of Morecambe and Wise.

Every Christmas both Morecambe and Wise accompanied by the Two Ronnies, Ronnie Corbett and Ronnie Barker were compulsive almost mandatory watching over the Christmas period. Eric and Ernie, for those of us who couldn't get enough of them, monopolised the Christmas Day evening spot because the kids were on school holiday and besides everybody loved Morecambe and Wise. They were hilarious, side splittingly funny, joyously compatible and rather like extended families. They made fun of the world, mocked its inequalities, the class divisions and then delighted in the tomfoolery and slapstick that came so naturally to them.

Some of would wake up as children and become transfixed by those early morning cartoons, the live programmes that seemed to be situated by sick children's hospital bedsides. It was a time for giving, loving and sharing, allowing us into a world where those who were less fortunate were still  highlighted on TV. Then jolly old Santa Claus would drag his cumbersome sack of presents over his shoulders and a nation of ill children would light up. By now the identity of the celebrity would be revealed and we would just feel cosy and uplifted by the benevolent human spirit that still existed. 

Back in the 1960s we can vaguely recall the Christmas Day Billy Smart's circus, an event so inappropriate and politically incorrect now that we could hardly bring ourselves to ever watch it again. Huge lions and elephants would be brazenly paraded around the ring in front of children who were just enthralled by the wondrous spectacle. The circus would invariably be preceded by the obligatory James Bond film and beforehand our deeply loved and much missed late Queen.

And then there was a programme so musically stimulating that you had to watch it in case you might have missed something important. Top of the Pops, a pop music confection of all the latest hit singles of the year, was hosted by all of those immensely popular DJs. The said DJs would always be surrounded by floating balloons, streamers, whistles and teenagers smiling and dancing almost simultaneously. By now we knew the music of the day would be encapsulated by an hour of the very cheesiest in pop.

By now we should be acquainted with Slade's So Here It is Merry Christmas. It's been well documented that the Christmas classic by Slade was recorded on the hottest day of the summer in American recording studio. But the sound is just quintessentially Noddy Holder's pride and joy, a song that would radically transform the mood of a Britain in the depths of industrial despair, a country riven by trade union division, powercuts, no electricity when you came home from school and a general miserable malaise that led to depression and unrest. Still, we got through it all and we survived.

In recent years we've been treated to a archetypal selection of Christmas songs. There was Bing Crosby's White Christmas, a warmly uplifting and redemptive song that lifted the world purposefully from Post War gloom and doom. They were songs that had a real message to those who just wanted the lighter and brighter side of life to be conveyed to the countries of the world. They reminded us of the point in our lives when the year had to come to end, that there was much to celebrate and much to be proud of. 

There followed your personal favourite Chris Rea's 1986 Christmas anthem Driving Home for Christmas, a song so beautiful and evocative of everything Christmas is supposed to be about that you wondered at its sheer simplicity. The video shows a car whose windscreens are permanently being swept by small birthday cakes of snow, winding its way along a motorway or American freeway before pulling into what can only be described as a goods depot. It is the perfect illustration of what Christmas should be about, the long journey through snow capped forests and the ultimate destination.

Then there's Jona Lewie's Stop the Cavalry, a song so anti War that you can't help but feel that it should really occupy the Number One spot in the charts every Christmas. Lewie spends most of the video pondering on the grievous losses of soldiers during the First World War. Lewie then laments the death of his fellow soldiers who were brutally shot and died in his arms. Around him are the fallen and dying before Lewie realises that his sweetheart and wife at home will always be at home ready to dance with him again, our Jona sitting in his armchair and just gazing longingly at a photo of his lovely and patient wife.

Sir Elton John's Step into Christmas and Roy Wood's seminal I Wish it Could Be Christmas Every Day are now treasured Christmas favourites, sing along karaoke tunes that most of us can hum and never forget in our sleep. And then Paul McCartney's classical Pipes of Peace, a song so magical and illustrative, poetic and descriptive that it just sends the proverbial tingle down your spine every time you hear it on the radio or see it on TV.  And this year the Pogues with the now late Shane Mcgowan and Kirsty McColl both assume an even more heartfelt poignancy  Fairytale of New York is simple and emotionally uplifting so much so that you're drawn into the melody and profundity of the words. It is a song that goes much deeper into the spirit of Christmas.

But above all we will sit down with our kith and kin with all those traditional Christmas themes humming those captivating carols and the tunes we've always sung since time immemorial. We will be at home with our loved ones because the shops are shut and the only exercise you'll get is a long walk in the park with our dogs. We'll exchange hearty goodwill, warm pleasantries around the table, snap some festive crackers, play those addictive board games after the turkey and just go with the flow. It will be a walk so exhilarating and healthy that you may forget all about the TV and decide to do something unconventional such as finishing a jigsaw puzzle or just reflecting on the year.

So here we are again on Christmas Day and King Charles the Third will make his  speech from the palatial splendour of Buckingham Palace or just delivering homespun tales of wisdom. This is an environmentally friendly King, a King with a genuine concern about the planet, the welfare of the world, the plants and wildlife and a man who always be forthright on any subject quite unapologetically. He is a King who cares for those who may be afflicted and in much the way that his dear, beloved mother did without any compunction.

There are the endless TV advertising campaigns so wonderfully pitched at every demographic that conceivable. There are the supermarket Christmas specials where Tesco, Sainsbury's, Morrison, Aldi where budgets are broken and merchandise is the name of the game. There are the beautifully decorated turkeys, bottles of wine, boxes of chocolates with heart warming visual effects and people just singing the praises of brussel sprouts, biscuits, wine, lager and everything that adverts pride themselves on.

Christmas films have always been defined by those apt commentaries on Christmases of the past. Dickens Christmas Carol starring the magnificent Albert Finney as Scrooge in his pyjamas and Anton Rodgers, is by far the greatest homage to Christmas. There's  James Stewart's It's a Wonderful Life, surely the ultimate in Christmas weepies. It's A Wonderful Life initially met with a hostile reception when it first opened but gradually insinuated itself into our affections.

The scene showing a desperate James Stewart running through the snowy streets of America before being reunited with the family he thought he'd lost, is so moving that you feel compelled to cry every time you watch it. It's a Wonderful Life is not only my wife's favourite Christmas film of all time but widely loved and respected by those who just believe in happy ever after to be their recipe for a perfect end to a film.

Traditionalists always insist that Bing Crosby's White Christmas is very much in contention for a place at the top of the Christmas leadership board. His gentle piano driven scene in the film where Crosby softly croons the Irving Berlin masterpiece is yet another salutary example of what can be done if you match up a Hollywood legend with a film that heavily references Christmas in every scene. Somehow it epitomises the joy and celebration of the entire festival.

So there you have it. This is Christmas Day, the day football once boasted a full fixture list of matches in Britain, where the trains and buses ran used to run quite regularly and the streets fell silent. It is a time when churches boast a full attendance although weekly members of the community would probably tell you that church going has never been so phenomenally popular. Last night's Christmas Eve must have attracted as many parishioners as it probably does at any time of the year.

We shall sit done at our heaving Christmas tables and make sure that everybody is in a good mood. The chances are that uncles everywhere will be given the same after shave lotion they used to get 50 years ago, aunties will have the most strikingly knitted scarves and pullovers to give the rest of her family, dad will get another box of cigars and that cousin who lives hundreds of miles from where you live will probably get you another set of shirts with cuff links and don't forget the gift vouchers for the kids.

Ladies and Gentlemen. Christmas is here and may it always arrive every year at this time and on this day. You suspect that some might get withdrawal symptoms if Christmas were banned permanently. We'd probably take to the streets in riot gear with protests and loud, vociferous demonstrations. It might even go to the High Court or the Royal Courts of Justice so vehemently will people express their outrage. But oh no even though you're probably Jewish, Christmas is here to stay and none should object to its presence at the end of the calendar year. Anybody for another mince pie? Some of us would really like to eat several boxes of them.