The Meadows Edit

I grew up with a mother who, even though she piled on the gifts and we were never left wanting, hated Christmas. And I was never able to understand it. Like much with my mother, knowing how she really felt about things soured the experience in the long-term. I always tried to understand it but came up short. I asked her and she said that she had spent so many years having to ‘beg and scrape after her husband and children (her words, not mine) that she had come to feel nothing but resentment for Christmas. 

When I left home – aged 19, with a man rather older than myself, who I married two years later – I vowed to make our Christmases special. We had very little money at first, so we had to conjure what we could out of very little, but we always made sure that we embraced the mood of the season. The classical music concert from King’s College Cambridge on Christmas Eve set the mood. As soon as that one little boy sang his high note, I had roasted my own honey-roast ham, put on the twinkling lights and appreciated every single moment of it. 

My husband has grown up children, so they spend Christmas within their own family bubbles. We have no children of our own, so were able to do as we pleased – deciding what meat to have for dinner – sometimes duck, sometimes beef, nearly always turkey – what films we watched, and what poignant tv shows we’d be pretending not to cry over and what time we went out for a walk if the weather permitted. Christmases with just the two of us were the most treasured mental space of the year. 

So, bearing in mind how special this time was for us, how do you come to cope with having to take an elderly relation in over that period, who is not exactly the most politically tolerant of fellows? 

It’s difficult. Because you’re torn between two posts. My day job is so busy, and I have to make the most of my downtime on weekends and holidays, and Christmas for me is the Holy Grail of holidays. On the other hand, this relation lives on their own, and in the scheme of things, some would say, this was the very least we could do for someone who is now also on their own. And you feel dreadful because your heart is singing for the cosy Christmases that means so much to you, but you know you should be generous and embracing and settle for still having another week of Christmas holiday after the elder relation goes home. 

So how to handle it, and how would I advise anyone else going through the same situation?

• Stay away as far as possible from political discussions. This is paramount, especially if you’re spending time with people who are politically opposed to your viewpoints. If political points arise, do your very best to steer the conversation onto level ground.
• Know that you can always step outside for a walk or to get some air as often as you wish. 
• Watch your alcohol consumption. I don’t drink alcohol, but know for a fact that pouring alcohol onto an already difficult situation is never going to make things better. 
• If you subscribe to a mental health or meditation app, set some time aside to work through a meditation exercise. Even if you spend five minutes in the toilet doing it.
• Think of some places to visit that will get you all out of the house for an hour – weather permitting, of course. 
• Though it may be difficult, do let your relation know that they are appreciated. There’s nothing worse than feeling unwelcome at any time, let alone Christmas. 

I think my most important lesson to take away is that you don’t have to spend every minute of the day in each other’s company. If this is an issue, you can just be honest and say that you’re going to need some space for half an hour. 

As it has worked out this year, Christmas will just be the two of us. I’m raising a glass of no-alcohol bubbly to this, and hope that you have a chance to raise one as well, however you’re spending it.