It’s 8am on Christmas Eve and a woman smiles and says: “You’re brave.”
There’s a good chance she meant “you’re mad” as she took in the sight of a mother hissing “Santa won’t bring any presents if you use the trolley as a tank”, while getting the entire shopping list for Christmas lunch at the new M&S in Gallagher Retail Park.
It’s such a shiny, lovely place to be – if you’ve got an hour to yourself to peruse and choose.
With three up-to-90 Christmas Eve kids – remembering you’ve not put a ticket on the car while looking frantically for bread sauce – not so much.
Of course, we forgot something. This year, cranberry sauce.
That night, close to midnight when all the jobs were done, I looked for hacks on how to replace cranberry sauce with anything else.
I didn’t find it, but I did remember a study which this week found that Britons consumption on Christmas Day causes 23 times more greenhouse gas emissions than a regular day.
And I wondered if a good 50% of that was the hot air transmitted on social media.
I lost count of the endless smiling families in matching pyjamas round Christmas trees on Christmas Eve.
A gorgeous blonde who was hosting 17 people for lunch but it was a synch because “look at all the prep I’ve done” as she showcased her roasted chestnut pieces to add to the pre-prepped sprouts that grandma would adore.
And I felt terrible. Because there I was thinking of my own Christmas day ‘hacks’ that were somewhat less glamorous.
Having failed to make time for the hairdressers, my plan for the next day was to smudge some eyeshadow-type hair colour over the odd white strand increasingly popping up.
And my over-indulged belly would be camouflaged by a floaty dress hanging loosely to my knees.
How’s that for a shiny Insta feed, I thought as I took to bed, excited for the kids – and hopeful of a decent night’s sleep. Maybe close to six hours uninterrupted, rejuvenating slumber.
Bruce (Willis) the cat had other plans and woke us all at 4am trying to get out the towel cupboard.
Two hours later, the boys raced through with squeals that stockings had been filled. Santa had been!
And it was joyous, watching them find the tangerine that meant they’d been good boys all year; chocolate coins and Santas.
I imagined the perfect moments captured on cameras for the accounts online. And I could think of nothing worse – than stopping to capture the spontaneous, unexpected moments in life… for how even can you?
I thought of the mum who said she loved going for a three kilometre run on Christmas morning to set her up for the day and could think of nothing worse. How was that even possible with Santa-hyped kids? Was it even true and if it was, why the need to share? It certainly makes few people feel better about themselves.
But then, there’s the dawning of a truth that it’s all a bit of a farce.
Disorganised chaos is best at Christmas
We played Secret Santa – each family member with a £10 budget to buy a present for a family member they’d drawn anonymously.
And my eldest gave me a lift which doubled as a miracle.
A ruby red liquid lipstick (from Tesco while I shopped) that stayed on all day (rare) – as vibrant when I went to bed as when I put it on and – how’s this for a life hack – transformed a tired face into something more fizzy and festive.
And the first glass of fizz came – for there are two occasions on which it is never too early – in any airport and Christmas Day.
It’s the daft, disorganised chaos that’s best. The grandad – for me my Papa – who would filter off to the sofa like clockwork for a James Bond movie after lunch. We’d place blankets on him and pop our heads in and smile as he gradually, predictably, fell asleep.
For a friend, it was keeping her great uncle sober enough to make it to lunch. It drove her mad. Now he’s no longer here, she misses it and him.
Another pal tries to stop her sister-in-law and husband arguing, the bickering increasing as the day wears on. It’s a stretch to say she yet sees the funny side – but a certain pleasure is taken in recounting the drama and making friends laugh throughout the year.
We all have our “life hacks” to get through Christmas – and indeed the rest of the year.
Maybe yours are as unglamorous as mine.
Far from envy the gloss we’re fed online, I’ve come to the realisation they are often staged – just not real.
And who wants a life that isn’t real?
Merry Christmas pals. Here’s to keeping it real.
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