News / Opinion / Columns
A shop on the butt-end of Germany has been raided for selling festive Nazi decorations – because nothing says Christmas quite like swastikas on your baubles, right?
And I thought my face mask-wearing leopard bauble, purchased to commemorate last year’s lockdown festivities, was edgy.
This year, as I hung the masked leopard on the tree once more, I gave it an affectionate pat.
Here we go again, my young friend, I said; I thought you’d have become an amusing relic by now but here we are, celebrating our second Covid Christmas.
But still – it’s Christmas! Just five more sleeps to go!
I’m a huge fan of Christmas.
Not the stress to get everything done; not the frenzied shopping, queues and crowds; not the looping soundtrack of Mariah and Cliff Richard; not the alleged sales that are anything but; not the annual untangling of Christmas lights; not the anxiety of living with the man who has everything and yet – scarred forever by the time he asked Santa for an Action Man tank and got a Dinky Toy instead – he still hopes for a brilliant gift; not the turkey-wrangling; not the cleaning beforehand or the cleanup afterwards; not the fact that it’s all over so quickly and I’m left going “what happened?”
But Christmas? Yes! Roll me in red velvet, spray me in glitter and throw me to elves, please.
I’ve never had a truly bad Christmas. I’ve had better Christmases and worse Christmases, certainly.
I’ve had blazing rows, corked wine, dry turkeys, heartache, let-downs, a runaway hamster and gifts that disappointed – most notably the Action Man car (yes, Action Man again) purchased for a certain little boy of mine, but on Christmas morning the box was opened to reveal it was missing a wheel – and yet I’ve never had a Christmas that wasn’t at heart well-meaning, warm-spirited and created with love.
Everyone is in a giving mood, everyone has the best intentions, everyone sincerely wants one day of happiness.
Then, finally, it’s Christmas night, with presents open and tummies full and I’m curled up on the couch in a bubble of peace, surrounded by those I love, with nothing further to do but admire the twinkling, swastika-free tree.
And it feels like maybe, just maybe, there is peace on earth and goodwill to all mankind.