Tag Archives: holidays

Last Christmas

25 Dec

Last Christmas I gave you my heart,
But seven and a half months later you ate half a pizza and then told me you had never been in love with me,
This year, to save me from tears,
I’m hoping next year will be better.

Musings of a Grinch (a single Grinch)

24 Dec

Ahhhh, Christmas Eve.

We made it, my fellow blogger elves. We made it to Christmas. And I know at times we didn’t think that we would.

I haven’t blogged in the past few days. Partly I’ve been ill, and partly I’ve been having some kind of bipolar tendencies. One minute I’m high as a kid full of sugar plums, buying everything the shops have to offer and singing Christmas carols to myself. The next, I’m lying on my sofa sobbing uncontrollably because I’m going to be alone forever. And ever.

I’m entering into the Christmas spirit, regardless. I bought my mum and I reindeer onesies, which have gone down a treat. But, I swear to god, Facebook was designed to make us all feel rubbish about ourselves at this time of year. If I see one more picture of a baby dressed like an elf I will scream.

The fact is, you matter less when you are single at this time of year. Family plans revolve around the people who actually have other halves. Conversations revolve around the people who have kids. Or are kids (which doesn’t make for the most interesting dialogue). Last Christmas I was so ridiculously happy. My ex and I were constantly texting and Skyping. Kind of sickening. Kind of gut-wrenchingly heartbreaking.

Tomorrow I get to be the spare-part sister (a role I play so well) at my sister’s house.

But then it’s Boxing Day. Which means Boxing Day sandwiches and plenty of sleep.

And then this stupid year is nearly finished.

Next Christmas, you mark my sarcastic words, things are going to be different.

If they aren’t, I’m going to avoid Facebook like the plague in the month of December. And possibly book myself a flight to Hawaii.

Remember why

16 Dec

What was your best Christmas ever?

While you scratch your head trying to work out which year it was exactly, let me make things a little easier and hazard a guess that it was when you were a kid.

For me, it’s hard to differentiate. There’s a whole mishmash of glittery memories. A bike, a Barbie house, a hot water bottle in the shape of a mole (a surprising hit – well done, Mum), an art kit, ballet shoes, a riding hat, a lego train.

OK, before I sound like the most spoilt brat ever (and, no, I never did get the pony to go with that riding hat), I need to make the point that although I remember these things, it isn’t the things themselves that make the memories special.

It’s that fluttery, flappity, festive feeling.

Leaving school on the last day before the holidays, laden down with art and craft projects from the previous two weeks and cards from every person in your class. Watching ‘A Very Brady Christmas’ and ‘The Garfield Christmas Special’ with my sister. Going to bed on Christmas Eve, unable to stop wriggling from sheer excitement. Knowing that if you eat just two brussel sprouts you’ll get extra trifle for dessert. Curling up with your Nonna to play board games – and not even realising when she falls asleep. And snores.

It’s not about the things at all: it’s about the feeling.

Which is maybe why this year felt like such a grinchtastrophe. I just couldn’t shake feeling blue. But, I tried. I put up my tree. I made a playlist. I watched Christmas movies. And finally, something has kicked in.

I feel happy.

I feel lucky.

I remember why.

Rediscover Christmas, my buddies. Here’s a little bit of magic to help you out.

Christmas is coming. Apparently.

19 Sep

Last night I went for a massage. I do not mean this in a perverted or sexual way, but I really love that I can pay someone to touch me. Just having someone rub my shoulders. Sheer bliss. There’s a little Thai place I’ve visited for years. They really know what they’re doing.

So last night I went for a head and shoulder massage which means sitting in a chair in the front of the shop rather than going into a room. This also means that you get to hear all the other customers’ conversations with the receptionist (who is one of the sweetest ladies ever).

Just when I was getting super relaxed and a bit sleepy, in walks a crazy woman. I had my eyes closed throughout, but in my head she was tall with unbrushed red hair. Crazy Woman talks at the receptionist about how awful she is feeling. For a full 20 minutes. Her house is unliveable. Her work is very stressful. She just went on a date with the guy who is the voice of Siri on the iPhone. But nothing matters since her ex broke her heart. (Her ex, incidentally, had the same first name as my ex.)

I could tell that the receptionist didn’t know what to say or do. There were no appointments available. Crazy Woman just needed to talk. Eventually, the receptionist spoke up and simply said, “Christmas is coming. Don’t be alone.”

Christmas. I thought I was going to be in Ireland with my ex and his family this Christmas. Instead I’ll be playing ‘spare part’ as usual with my family at my sister’s house. I’m not sure I can get much time off work at all, so I’m not really thinking about it.

What I am thinking about is the fact that every other break up I have been through (with the exception of my first boyfriend), took place right before Christmas. The Manchester Office Hottie, Hairy Back Jack, The Secret Work Boyfriend, and The Ex Before The Ex. Every one a break up in the first week of December. Which really puts a downer on opening the doors on your Hello Kitty advent calendar.

Here’s something to be grateful for: this break up did not ruin my Christmas. And I will not let it. By Christmas I will be me again. By Christmas I will be better. By Christmas I will be smiley, happy, Christmas-loving April who makes the best pecan pie and buys the best gifts. (I know it sounds arrogant, but I really do.)

I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but by Christmas I could even have met someone else. Sure, it makes me feel sick right now. But it’s possible. Anything’s possible at Christmas, right?

In fact, Wedding Boy emailed me last night. He’d seen a Hello Kitty sweatband that made him think of me. (Hopefully because I love Hello Kitty and not because I’m sweaty. I believe personal hygiene is one of my stronger qualities.)

Again, no butterflies. But definitely a smile.