FUCK XMAS

A GREAT many of us are often in a ‘fuck Xmas” mindset at this time of the year. It’s not just the constant pushing of items we neither need nor really want or the decorations and foodstuffs in the shops, but more and more of us are fed up with this endless consumption to celebrate a day most of us have no affinity with whatsoever.

Then there are those who just cannot celebrate Xmas, often for monetary reasons. For those forced to live on the streets they can, more often than not, go to a homeless shelter or one of the many restaurants which have begun to serve free meals for people in need and I’m sure they’re very grateful for a good meal before returning to the cold pavement. That was in no means meant to be sarcastic, as I’m sure they are grateful; but the point is they shouldn’t have to be. Having a wholesome hot meal once a day should be a basic human right, not an act of bloody charity.

Let's not forget either those who save every single penny all year and often go without necessary things just to give their child/children something to unwrap on Xmas day. They should be applauded. Though claps will be about as much help to them as they were to our NHS staff, but I'm sure you know what I mean.

And there are others, those lucky enough to have a home but not quite fortunate enough to be in the position to purchase any extra or different food at this time or any other. Millions will be eating the same crap they eat every day, and believe me, we’re quite thankful for that crap most of the time. But it does grate when we see advertisements of happy families preparing for Xmas by purchasing and wrapping presents and buying food, a lot of which will be thrown out when left uneaten.

And I haven’t even mentioned the copious amounts of booze. I’m no teetotaller and have nothing against anyone who wants to relieve the pain of their everyday lives by getting pissed out of their heads, or indeed others who can afford it having a drink every day or whenever. It’s their money, their lives, good on them for enjoying themselves.

I do have a gripe though. Call it my ‘bah, humbug’ moment if you will, though it applies all year around.

I see people one day enjoying a drink in their obviously cosy and warm homes and then the very next day complaining of how poor they are. It’s all relative, but really? I’m sorry, but if you can warm your home and also afford to buy alcohol then you are not living in poverty. Not trying to shame anyone, as I said, everyone should enjoy themselves to the very best of their abilities, of course they should, but please, just don’t say how poor you are after having shown us a glimpse of your quite nice life.

I was speaking to my mother in NZ about this just last week because she too has known real poverty. When I was a young child and my parents had only four children (which later grew to seven), my father became very ill and was in and out of hospitals for about five years, often hospitals in other cities which took us hours by bus to reach when we could afford it, and I actually only remember three occasions when I saw my father during that period. We had been doing okay before that, my parents bought a council house when I was two, a very nice house it is too, and we lived an okay life until Father was hospitalised. Things went downhill very quickly. Most of the furniture had to be sold including our beds. As children we didn’t mind sleeping on the floor though, it was a bit of an adventure to begin with, and we even thought helping Mother to pound clothes in the bathtub because the washing machine was long gone, quite fun also. And that period made my mother the amazing cook and dressmaker she is today.

She made weird and wonderful meals from the vegetables growing in our back yard or those given to us by neighbours and friends, though I do remember us consuming an inordinate amount of potatoes, much as I do now. You can do a lot with a spud. But this isn’t about my childhood poverty though it taught me valuable lessons for the future. For example, for Christmases and birthdays we were never, never, bought any presents other than a book each, and this continued even when Father was well and working again. And my mother would often make us an item of clothing. But it’s the books I remember and loved and I thank god for having a library only a five minute walk away as Mother took us there once a week to change our reading material. And even later, when my partner and I had money, we bought each other books for birthdays. Something else also, but there was always at least one book.

But the point Mother made when I was speaking to her was that once you have experienced real poverty you never, ever forget it. And it’s so true, for most of us. I was very comfortably off from the seventies to the nineties with both myself and my partner working and earning very good money. We owned our own house, no mortgage, and so were in the position to help others who were far less fortunate. I’m not going into details because we don’t help others for kudos, we do it because we care. And I'm also not saying I didn't spend outrageous amounts on myself either because I did. One of my favourite shops back then was Harvey Nicks and now, almost thirty years later I still wear two of the coats I bought there. 

I’ve just read what I’ve written and have made my point very badly. If you want to celebrate Xmas and can afford it, then go for it, you don’t need anyone’s permission to have a good time. But perhaps, just perhaps, instead of buying that bit of extra food or booze for your household, which may not be consumed, give a little something to a food bank. Even if it’s just a can of something (preferably something that can be eaten cold as too many don’t have cooking facilities) that item could make all the difference between a terrible day and an okayish one for someone.

Whatever you’re doing or wherever you are for Xmas, make the most of it, and if you can, help make it a better day for somebody else. Let them know that people care.