The winter solstice is upon us. The nights are drawing out.

Why do I still, in spite of everything, love Christmas?
Because the bad tempers of people who hate Christmas, far from bringing me down, only serve to strengthen my festive feeling?
Maybe it’s a nod to home and the traditions, religious and otherwise, started before I was born. Maybe some things have changed, but if I want to put up some tinsel, who am I harming? And if I have had a Nativity in my home every year of my life, what is the problem? I don’t know… What I do know is that everyone should be free to have their own beliefs and traditions, and if I want to put up a Nativity scene complete with Mary, Joseph, Jesus, el Caganer and Father Christmas, I damn well will. And I’ll enjoy the lunacy. My only rule is that polvorones be eschewed.

What I cannot come to terms with is the idea of finding the spirit of Christmas. From tear-jerking Christmas ads for consumerism to insincere Christmas specials on TV. That said, I do love a Christmas special. But, surely all the values that people purport to live by at Christmas should last all year. “Christmas is a time for giving”, but the rest of the year you can be as Scroogy as you want. “Christmas is a time for family”, but with family, it’s the worst time to be together if you don’t get on, and if you do, surely all year is time for family. “Christmas is a great excuse to get together, show people what they mean to you and be merry”, but why do you need an excuse? If I want to give a present to someone I love and it’s not Christmas I will. And if I want to get together with my family on March 15th, I’ll try.

I do truly love giving presents, not because I’m a saint, but because so often you want to do it and don’t, and this period is a good time to do it with nobody asking you why. You can simply enjoy the moment of seeing the face of the person you care about, most of all when you’ve hit the nail on the head. In fact it’s far from saintly; it’s probably more selfish than anything in that you take pleasure in knowing you’ve given someone pleasure. Maybe all gifts should be anonymous. That’ll learn me. Admittedly, it wouldn’t be as much fun.
Christmas isn’t a time for anything but whatever you want to do. As is all the year.

And the stars. One of the problems of living where there is no lack of artificial light is not being able to see the stars. Looking up seeing the whole sky full of lights fills me with a sensation of vertigo, of awe. It puts things in perspective, and even though it’s been said so many times before, it truly does make you feel so small and insignificant. Granted, you can see stars all year round, but there is something about a clear night sky in winter that is magical.

Looking out of my window to ghostly, Tim Burton-esque trees, now bare of any leaf. A strange feeling overcomes me, of too much stillness. It’s uncanny to feel happiness, solitude, sadness, hope and emptiness all at the same time. And yet you assimilate it. And then you look up and see one star in the sky and everything else fades away. Nothing matters except that one star and you, for one brief moment.

What I must do on Christmas Day is go for a morning walk in the cold, bright and quiet; In the gardens or on the hills, savouring the fresh crispness of the air and the play of the light between the trees, and the peacefulness, the silence in the air. Even if I can’t feel my toes. Which reminds me, the coldest I have ever felt in my life was in Wakefield in Yorkshire. Frozen fog through which you could not see further than half a metre. And I couldn’t feel my knees. I felt my thighs and my feet, but in a strange way, as if I had no sensation in the middle, that is, in the knees. They had given up. And I put the fingers of both hands together, and I couldn’t feel my fingertips. As if they were not part of my body. When it happens to you it freaks you out a little.

That said, be it rainy, or foggy or windy, I still go. There is still magic in the air.

The same goes for New Year’s Day. I’ve been fortunate enough to see in the New Year in Lanzarote at 22 degrees by the sea with endless blue skies. I’m guessing this year will not be quite the same. But willy or nilly, I will get out and look at the sea, rain, shine or wind. (Note: I’ll be in the British Isles). I always look forward to seeing in the New Year. It matters not that it is simply the change from one day to another; it remains as symbolic as ever for me. It signifies, if not a new beginning, at least a new energy, a revival.

Maybe, just maybe, one day Christmas, or whatever festival you celebrate over mid-winter, or indeed for antipodeans mid-summer, will be less about spending money, and more about reflection, and looking for ways to ensure that justice, goodness, humanity and respect last all the year and every year. Naïve to think it, perhaps, but without hope, we’d all just throw in the towel.

Thinking of achievable New Year resolutions.

Have a list of approximately zero.

And no, I didn’t win the lottery.

Espanglisher is off for the holidays, but will be back in the New Year.

NEW SPECIAL EDITION PODCAST AVAILABLE! At link below and on Spotify

Episode Eleven: Special in Spanish

Summary Special in Spanish