Let’s hear it for Mother Christmas (From The Northern Echo)

Let’s hear it for Mother Christmas

10:22am Wednesday 23rd December 2009

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Behind every successful family Christmas, there’s usually a hard-working woman.

WE all know how the big fat chap in the red suit hogs all the glory – not to mention all those mince pies and whiskies. But, as always, behind every great man is a woman doing most of the work. Especially at Christmas.

Time to give Mother Christmas the honour she deserves. For, without women, could Christmas actually happen?

It’s not just the planning, the shopping, the cooking, the making up of beds, which in itself is more than enough, but it’s all the other stuff that it’s mostly women who do...

...like making sure the innkeeper is word perfect on his lines and doesn’t scupper the job, or the angel knows her song and the elves their recitation...

....choosing granny’s presents for the kids and the kids’ presents for Granny and suggesting what aunties, uncles and godmothers can get and thus having an intimate knowledge of the catalogues from the Early Learning Centre and Argos and the cardigans in Marks & Spencer… ....knowing what size slippers husband’s aunt takes… ...remembering a meal for the vegetarian girlfriend, auntie’s favourite sherry and drunken uncle’s rum. And batteries. And loo roll. And Paracetamol… ...keeping all the receipts… ....still having wrapping paper and sticky tape left over so that the rest of the family can wrap their presents to her...

But above all, Mother Christmas is the festive equivalent of the UN peacekeepers. When the extended family is squashed into a confined space but with high expectations of a jolly time, there are enough flashpoints to start a small war or two – especially if there are two lots of in-laws, with their own differing ideas of how Christmas should be done.

But Mother Christmas – in between opening presents, cooking turkey and dishing out mince pies – deals with most of them in passing before the others even notice.

She pours oils on troubled waters, defuses arguments, soothes hurt feelings, calms ruffled tempers, keeps the whole thing afloat.

And probably keeps the elves in line as well.

So if at some point, she collapses in front of a soppy DVD with a bottle of wine and a box of chocs, leave her alone. She deserves it.

ANUMBER of friends and acquaintances aren’t sending cards and presents this year but are giving the money to charity. No doubt at all about their sincerity.

But they’re not exactly missing out, are they?

They presumably spend as much or as little as they normally would, but with a lot less fuss, and they get the warm glow of doing good. And they still get cards and presents from their friends.

So what people should be saying is “I will buy you something, but please don’t send me a card or present, but give the money you would have spent on me to a charity of your choosing.”

But it doesn’t seem to work like that...

FIRST the good news for grown-ups – in a bid to counter accusations of ageism, the BBC is employing newsreaders Fiona Armstrong, 53, Zeinab Badawi, 50 and Julia Somerville, 62.

Now the bad news – they won’t be on any of the main news or current affairs programmes, but in the quieter corner of the News Channel.

Still, it’s a start.

HOW I love those Round Robin letters that come with Christmas cards.

It’s great to get the news from friends that I’ve really, really meant to get in touch with this year – and often inspires me to ring and have a proper conversation and arrange to meet and catch up properly.

And as for those letters which brag and boast about everything from their children’s exam results to their new Jacuzzi and extensive reading list, they make me hoot with laughter and are a real joy – especially because, as I am clearly not grand enough for their company – I need no longer make any effort with them at all.

Cinders and the slob factor

PAPERS and magazines are full of sparkly party dresses, glittery shoes, hints on party make-up, party hair styles, party food and party drinks.

It seems as though the whole world is dressed to the nines and dancing the night away. Then you read that this Christmas’s best seller is the slanket – see above – a sort of fleecy blanket with sleeves that is designed for curling up in on the sofa and is neither glitzy, glamorous and about as flattering as one of those backless hospital gowns. But so popular, that retailers can barely keep up with demand. So instead of tottering along on five inch heels and killer eyelashes, what people are really doing this Christmas is snuggling on the sofa. Maybe if Cinderella had had a slanket, she wouldn’t have bothered with that ball at all.

NEXT year may be wonderful, but already it’s doomed. No more David Tennant as Dr Who. How will we cope? The same way that we did after Tom Baker or Christopher Eccleston, I suppose, but it gets no easier, especially as Tennant has just been voted the best Dr Who ever.

Let’s hope in a few years’ time, we’re saying the same things about Matt Smith. (But so young, so young...)

Both dignified and decent

FORMER Welsh rugby captain Gareth Thomas has come out of the closet and admitted he’s gay. His decision to go public – and the supportive attitude of his team-mates – will surely make it easier for many others.

His wife, Jemma, now making a new life for herself in Spain, still thinks he’s fantastic, still says he’s her best friend.

They both speak so carefully and fondly of each other that – in a tawdry world of celebrity confessions – they are a masterclass of dignity and decency.

Hit and miss grit

SNOW used to hold little fear for us – despite the long steep hill down to our house – because every morning at 7am you’d see the cheery orange glow of the gritter wagon light and know all was well. If the snowfall was horrendous – and it frequently was – then it might be early afternoon before they got to us but we knew they would.

Two years ago, North Yorkshire changed their gritting strategy. Despite the danger of the hill and the heavy traffic – including buses – gritting seems to be hit and miss. This weekend we gritted the hill ourselves, until the bins were empty, which didn’t take long. Lorries got stuck, wagons jacknifed, vans came down sideways, wheels spun and cars crashed.

I know the gritters are working flat out, and I know every village feels hard done by. But North Yorkshire used to get it so right for us, so why has it changed? And is the cost saving really worth the risk?

* IS it me, or has this year really sped by more quickly than any other? It’s taking me so long to catch up with it all, that I feel I should be wishing you Happy August Bank Holiday. But the calendar tells me it really is December.

So, big or small, chaotic or quiet, I hope you have just the sort of Christmas you wish. Happy Christmas!

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