“Christmas is for the children”,
It’s a truth I can’t deny,
The presents, songs and snow fall,
On those you can rely.
But adulthood became a chore,
An annual long, exhausting drive
Between the two headline events,
To keep our parents’ hopes alive.
For many years I tried to keep
December’s clutches at arms’ length,
But as each passing year sweeps by
I just don’t have the strength.
Its claws dig deep and earlier,
And pierce my inattentive heart;
No more indifferently immune
To its sharp, insidious dart.
Despite my ears that are assailed
Through October, November long
By Aled, Pogues, Mud, Wings and Wham,
And that infernal Slade sing-song.
Large family revelries now in the past,
Dear parents, and their parents, long gone,
Diluting the shimmer of the show and
Bequeathing a muted and less joyful throng.
But now it is again a welcome treat –
Panto, choral concerts, feasts and plays,
Tours of dazzling lights at Leeds and Kew,
“German” market trips and shopping days.
The season’s music never fails to thrill:
King’s College Cambridge, Ella, Bing and Dean,
Perennial playlist for the biggest day of all,
Soundtrack to a merry Christmas scene.
Vintage movies too take pride of place,
Dusted down from off the topmost shelf,
A Christmas Carol, Miracle on 34th Street,
It’s A Wonderful Life, Love Actually and Elf.
So here I am now, two weeks to go,
Already neatly labelled and wrapped tight,
Unlike the presents I have yet to buy,
Far too early yet for that “delight”!
Is it age that makes me reconnect?
A sign that days are hastening on?
A desperate clinging to an ideal past,
Now the future is uncertain, short or long?
Is it my childhood Christian faith,
Gently prodded by my parents’ mind,
That now provokes renewed affection;
No – that has long been left behind.
If it is one thing, it is the music
That still inspires and enraptures me,
Uniting my juvenile and recent years,
Inducing tears to flow from memory.
So I look forward now to Christmas,
The kids, the carols and the theatre live,
The turkey, sprouts, exchange of gifts
And even that long northbound drive.
But one disturbing image still remains –
I won’t be able to suppress a groan
When Noddy Holder clears his throat
And yells “It’s Christmas” to everyone!
Tony Quarrington 