And so this was Christmas…

Despite the lack of Christmas cheer I was experiencing at the time of my last post, I had a lovely christmas. I hope you all did too, and that those of you going through difficult times found some comfort from the people around you. That’s kind of what this post is about. A bit of a reflection about the people I spent Christmas with. I missed J lots, of course. He went to his dad’s over Christmas (next year we are hoping to spend christmas in the same part of the country although our flat is too small to entertain in and blah blah blah).

Anyway, I went home to the small Yorkshire village I grew up in, and although there are always a few ghosts of your sixteen year old self to contend with when you go home for christmas, I find that these days I can sit round the table with those ghosts in companiable silence. I no longer feel an uncomfortable ache of nostalgia for the person I used to be then. Well. Mostly.

And how can you fail to feel Christmassy driving home for Christmas in this?

Up North

Or waking up in your childhood bedroom on Christmas eve and looking out of the window at the snow.

The village hasn’t changed much. It still has one shop, two pubs, a chip van and, bizarrely, a football ground.

This is where I grew up. It’s beautiful -I just never realised that when I lived there.

I took this picture of the Emley Moor Television Mast on a boxing day walk with my mum. As always, Christmas was Christmas, in the end because I was with my family. Without wanting to sound too sentimental, (actually, fuck it- I don’t care if it sounds sentimental) this is what I liked best about my christmas -playing a family quiz with my parents and my brother; sitting in front of a coal fire with my mum, cats on our knees; my dad helping me take cuttings from some of his houseplants or making soup whilst listening to gardeners’ question time, festive edition.

Speaking of my parents, I snapped these sneaky shots to illustrate where the ADHD in our family comes from. The only real source of mutual chagrin for mum and dad is my dad’s ADHD tendencies – his mess, his compulsive bargain hunting, and his refusal to throw anything out. Ever. Most of the house is really very nice but my mum has to fight to keep it that way, constantly picking up old nails, random batteries, charity shop “finds,” not to mention the debris from hundreds of his “little projects” as she calls them. So the house becomes a battleground upon which my mum desperately tries to impose order onto chaos:

Mum's Order

Dad's Chaos (although he would probably argue that he is making omelets which requires a certain amount of eggs be broken)

You can see how the ADHD diagnosis made a lot of sense for us all. I love how different they are to each other, how they tease each other, how they understand each other and me, even when they pretend not to. I love my dad’s eccentricities, my mum’s tolerance and generosity. I owe my parents everything. I strive to be somebody they’ll be proud of even though I know that their pride and love is unconditional. They have taught me what family can be, what love should be, and I no matter how old I get, I will always grow towards them like plants grow towards the sun.

c.1984

I love you, mum and dad- thank you for another beautiful christmas x x x

Advertisement