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How to survive the festive period (and hopefully even enjoy it)

04/12/2016 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

1. Watch It’s A Wonderful Life and pretend that’s the reason why you’re crying

Thank goodness for this film and the perfect excuse it gives us to ball our eyes out without drawing anybody’s attention. This film breaks me every time – the bit with Mr Gower and the wrong pills, the part where Mary tells the children to pray for their father, and the bit at the end (which I won’t spoil, just in case). I’m welling up even as I write this.

But as well as crying at the film itself, I know I’m also blubbing about the year gone by, about all the emotions that Christmas makes you feel, and out of sheer bloody exhaustion. After the year we’ve had, it might be a good idea for us to pop the film on now in the hope that we’ll have pulled ourselves back together by Christmas day.

2. Repeat after me: I am not responsible for anybody else’s fun

I feel a bit anxious ahead of social occasions, but saying this to myself – and truly believing it too – has really made me feel better. You are not responsible for other people having a good time. Be nice to people, sure, and buy them nice presents if you’re that way inclined, but don’t panic that if you’re not on absolute top form then the entire festive season will be thrown in the bin.

Everybody participating in Christmas – or any other holiday – has to bring something to the table, whether it’s good humour, cracking anecdotes or, ideally, gin. It’s not all on you. Now breathe deeply, have a mince pie and enjoy yourself.

3. Buy something new to wear on Christmas Day if you want to – but don’t if you don’t

Be honest, how inadequate are you currently feeling about the glittery-ness of your wardrobe? Your total inability to transform from a normal human being into a sequin adorned princess? I’m guessing quite. Advertising is good isn’t it! But you do know you can just wear something you already own, don’t you? Or that if you do buy something new it doesn’t have to double up as a light source? They should really cover this in school.

I have the Christmas day outfit dilemma every year. This December’s quandary goes like this – do I wear my gold skirt which is covered in so many sequins that every time I walk one of them tries to take a slice out of my leg? Or my new silver skirt, the material of which is so synthetic that when I wear it with a coat, the lining lifts it entirely, exposing, well, everything? As long as I’m not required to move an inch throughout Christmas Day, I guess either outfit will be fine.

4. Reserve the right to say no to social activities

Just a short sharp reminder that your human rights remain intact at Christmas time and if you don’t want to do something, you don’t have to. Or if you do want to but you’re already party-ed/shopped/prosecco-ed out, you’re free to make a wise decision and just stay home. Nobody is keeping tabs on how festive you’re being this year, or any year. Do what you like – as Anne. T. Donahue always says in her excellent newsletter: NOBODY CARES.

How to cope with the festive season 5. Make plans to see people in January

“I HAVE to see you before Christmas!”

“But we’ll see each other before Christmas, RIGHT?!”

Umm, probably not now. We’re into December and any days or nights people do have free are being kept that way to help them recover from all the days and nights they’re out celebrating this joyous time of year.

But guess what – it’s OK! We can see each other in the New Year when we’re all just counting down until March and the prospect of daylight lasting for longer than an hour and need some social interaction to help cheer us up.

I understand the want to see friends and family before Christmas, to remind them that you love them at this oddly emotive time of year, but don’t create pressure that doesn’t need to be there. Sometimes the kindest thing you can say to someone you care about is: you don’t need to worry about seeing me right now, let’s do it another time.

6. See the ‘end of year effect’ coming

Every year on about the 16th of December I start to feel sick. There’s nothing wrong with me, my body just becomes desperate for a rest. All of a sudden I’m making it participate in more socialising in a month than I’ve done throughout the rest of the year and, frankly, it’s not having it. Add that to tiredness I’ve accumulated during yet another 12 months of being a grown-ass woman and I’m just about ready to collapse into a heap at any moment.

This has happened enough years in a row now to make me think it must happen to other people too. But now I prepare for it and this is my advice should you wish to too: see it coming. Avoid going out multiple nights on the trot. Re-read point 4 on this list. Try to eat some of your meals in your own home. Drink plenty of water. Do some really good, deep breathing. Schedule a bath and an early night. Everything really will look and feel better in the morning.

7. Don’t fall into the ‘I haven’t bought mum/dad/the dog enough presents’ trap

BUT WHAT IF THEY DON’T HAVE ENOUGH TO OPEN? is my number one Christmas Day based fear, closely followed by ‘What if I accidentally catch my hair on fire on a candle’ and ‘What if my Christmas socks are in the wash and I don’t get to wear them on the ONE day they were designed for?’

It’s always there, waking me up in the middle of the night, listing everything I’ve bought so far, tutting and whispering “Really, is that all?”

But this year I’m determined not to fall for it. We are all so extremely fortunate that it is ridiculous to think that if we don’t all have thirty five presents to open we’re going to suddenly combust. So say no to the Christmas Eve panic that sees you dashing to the novelty gift section of your local department store and seriously considering buying your nearest and dearest a book of fart jokes just so that there’s more under the tree.

For everybody’s sake, hold onto your money.

Relationships: 4 benefits of spending Christmas apart

21/12/2014 by Charlotte 1 Comment

In every other way we’re pretty conventional.

We live together, we eat together, we have regular arguments about whose turn it is to take the bin out… we’re everything you’d expect a married couple to be. Except at Christmas.

Because despite our vows and our rings and that little Mr and Mrs ornament we’ve got above our bed (the Mr of which keeps mysteriously falling down, which I’m hoping is not an omen), we don’t spend Christmas together.

But don’t worry, it’s a good thing. And here’s why:

1. Christmas is a logistical nightmare
Christmas is the only time of year when we get to spend proper time with our families. And so, for just a few precious days, we choose to do that instead of being together. Of course if we had come from the same family we would get to spend Christmas in the same place, but they wouldn’t have let us get married if that were the case, would they? And because our parents rudely didn’t foresee that their son/daughter would inevitably marry each other in 2013, they didn’t buy houses in the same street. In fact, they’re a good couple of hours apart so in the absence of a car, our only options for a Christmas mash up between families is either walking, or a taxi fare we could only pay for if we remortgaged our house. So instead we opt for sending each other off with presents and good wishes for our respective in-laws and the promise of a post-festive season meet up to help take the edge off the January blues. As far as I’m concerned, everyone’s a winner (and we’ll see what everybody else thinks after they’ve opened their gifts).

2. We get to have a bonus Christmas before the main event
But just because we don’t spend the big day together, it doesn’t mean we don’t get to have our own dose of festive fun. Today, in fact, is our Christmas Day which we have renamed BINGE FEST as we’re spending most of the day eating (and because we’re exceptional at naming things). It’s very similar to a normal Christmas – we have presents, we drink booze and we might even throw in a quick argument about who is or is not sufficiently pulling their weight in cooking the dinner, in the name of tradition. The festive spirit is very much alive and well in this house.

3. Telephones exist
This blog is nothing if not way ahead of the times. So I am here to tell you that telephones exist and enable you to talk to people who are in different towns. And we use those very things to stay in touch whilst we’re apart. It’s so nice to have a phone conversation that’s about what we’ve been up to and how we are, rather than just what we want for tea or to ask if we’ve got any peanut butter in the house. Sometimes we even dabble in a little Skype too if we’re feeling ambitious and want to take a gander at the presents we’ve each been given. It’s nice to have an early glance at the socks I’m going to inevitably end up picking up off the floor at home.

4. It makes New Year worth looking forward to
If Atomic Kitten, Five and Eternal have taught us anything, it’s that big reunions are a very good idea. And we get to have our very own one every year. We cry, we catch up, and we perform all our original hits in front of a live audience (OK, one of those is a lie. He’s never been much of a crier). And it’s nice to have something to look forward to after Christmas. We reunite in time for New Year with just enough time to unpack and eat a few chocolate coins before heading out to be mutually disappointed by whatever we do to celebrate December 31st.

And so we go on with our lives. I’m sure we will have to change our ways at some point, but not before we’ve had children, bought a car, or our parents have seen the error of their ways and become next door neighbours.

But for now I must get back to eating all the cheese, crisps, sweets and mince pies we bought for binge fest. Nobody is going anywhere until this lot is gone.

Perhaps we won’t be going home for Christmas after all.

How to buy Christmas presents for your other half

14/12/2014 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Your approach to Christmas shopping changes when you’re in a long term relationship.

When you first start dating it’s like a contest to see who can buy the other the most stuff. Spending all your cash feels like the perfect way to demonstrate your joy at being coupled up at Christmas time – and nothing says ‘I love you’ better than a giant pile of wrapping paper and a bankruptcy notice.

But then things get serious. And the festive season stops being about proving how much you adore your other half by buying them a different cuddly toy for each of the 12 days of Christmas. You’ve got other priorities now so you need a strategy to ensure it doesn’t swallow all your money, take over your home, and leave you queuing outside the divorce courts on Boxing Day morning. And I suggest that strategy looks something like this:

1. The budget
A strong mantra to live by when Christmas shopping is: Let’s not do anything we’re going to regret in January. Sure, that 75 inch television would bring a huge smile to his face, but not when you announce upon opening that as a result of this purchase, you will not be able to go on holiday again until the turn of the next millennium. (Also, if you want to have any actual conversations next year, I suggest you leave that thing in the shop). Nope, there comes a time when you need a firm and agreed budget to prevent everybody from going so crazy that you have to live on dry pasta until the next yuletide comes around. But it doesn’t take all the fun out of it – quite the opposite – with a successfully on-budget set of gifts comes the perfect opportunity for a Christmas high-five, and what could be better than that?

NB: In the end, happiness in long term relationships is predominantly demonstrated through high fives. If you don’t like them, I suggest you get out now.

2. The smaller the better
I haven’t looked at the stats but I am pretty confident that ‘clutter’ is the most common reason marriages end in divorce. Not adultery, not fundamentally disagreeing about the validity of Love Actually as a film (though I must admit, we have come close), but all that stuff that couples own but can’t figure out where to put. So when it comes to Christmas shopping your first thought (after deciding whether they’ll actually like the thing, of course) is how much space it will take up in your house. Because you’re going to have to live with it and you don’t want there to come a day when you’re shouting at him or her for owning something that you bought them. I’m pretty sure that ‘proving to be a bit of a dick’ is an available option on divorce papers too.

3. The bargain present
A close friend of number 2 is the gift which has been purchased on the proviso that it replaces a current offending belonging. It might be a t-shirt to replace the one with ‘FBI: Female Body Inspector’ written across it from his hilarious acronym phase, or perhaps it’s a pair of boxer shorts with a warning that if he doesn’t throw away the pair with so many holes in them that they’re nothing short of obscene, you’re going to call the police. These presents say ‘I love you but enough is enough’.

4. One for you, one for me
When you live in the same house, apart from going to the toilet, shaving your legs and stomping off upstairs because the other person has been SO UNREASONABLE as to fail to telepathically work out that you’d have liked them to dust the skirting boards while you were out, you do most things together. And you soon realise that if there’s a present you can buy them which can be enjoyed by more than one person at once, that person is most likely going to be you. And so you start to get clever. Tickets to plays you would both enjoy start finding their way onto your shopping list and subscriptions to TV packages that just happen to host your favourite shows as well as theirs suddenly look like ideal presents. You’re not being selfish, you’ve just found a way to both give and receive at exactly the same time and I think Father Christmas would be proud of you.

Dear Mum, as promised, here’s my Christmas list…

07/12/2014 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

1. A top to wear with jeans. Not cropped. (Not as young as I used to be).

2. Good quality tights. Should probably try a size medium, small ones keep falling down.

3. Socks. Black please. Can’t bear to spend my own money on something so boring.

4. Jumper. Not itchy. Put it up to your face to test it; if you get a rash, don’t buy it.

5. Knickers. Full cheek coverage please. Too cold and old for thongs.

6. Gloves to go with that scarf you gave me Christmas 2012 – can send photo if you don’t remember.

7. Woolly hat that will not give me hat hair – so not too tight or cone-like.

8. Fancy top I can wear out to dinner but that will also look nice with a cardigan if nippy.

9. Purse. Must be strong and have room for lots of receipts and loyalty cards. No smaller than a brick.

10. Winter dress for work – not so hot that I’ll pass out on the tube but warm enough to stop me getting piles. (Good luck with that).

11. Book by that woman we saw on This Morning that we both thought had nice hair. Will text if remember name or title.

12. Pyjamas. No animals please. Am newly married; too soon for full penguin coverage (sadly).

13. Hand cream. Large. Nothing that smells like ice cream (always end up tasting it and is always gross).

14. Good pen. Am serious writer, need serious tools.

15. Banana guard. Keep ruining handbags. (Will unwrap in private to avoid childish giggling).

Things I do not need:
– Umbrellas. Am overrun.
– Towels. Is like B&B round here.
– DVDs. Netflix innit.
– Jewellery. My necklace stand keeps falling over in the night and frightening us.
– Scarves. Got about 30 but still just the one neck.

Thanks v much. See you for Christmas! x

P.S Please don’t forget to get lots of Pringles. All flavours. (Don’t worry, I’ll take any leftovers home).

New Year’s resolutions: Do more of what you love (and a little of what you hate)

29/12/2013 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Well, what a year it’s been.

2013 has had so many highlights that I’m a little sad to see it come to an end. I got married, I learnt how to cook cauliflower cheese, I bought the correct type of bulb for our new lamp all by myself… I achieved so much.

But we must move on; 2014 will be here in just a few days and with the wedding behind me, our menu planned for the next 12 months and all our lighting equipment in full working order, I’m going to need a strong list of activities to keep me entertained for the next year.

So here it is, the inevitable New Year’s resolutions post – and, for a special treat, I’ve even included a few that I actually intend to keep.

1. Get out more

As a lover of slippers, radiators and going for days without wearing make-up, leaving the house is not always top of my agenda. But with a new year on the horizon, a bus stop 10 seconds from my house and the excellent bobble hat I got for Christmas to show off, it feels like a good time to commit to getting the hell out the front door and seeing a little more of the world. So this year I resolve to see more of London, the UK and, if I’m extra lucky, perhaps an extra country or two (though ideally the ones that have good central heating.)

2. Do more writing

As you may have noticed, I am partial to a little writing. So much so that for the past year and a half, I have written and posted a new blog post on here every single Sunday (with the small exception of the time I took off for our honeymoon – it’s good to at least pretend you find one another more interesting than the Internet for the first few weeks of marriage). And it’s been great. But next year, I’m going to do things a little differently.

Thanks to this very blog, I became a Huffington Post blogger and a Funny Women contributor this year, and I also came up with an idea for a book I’d rather like to write (though whether I can string more than 500 coherent words together remains to be seen). So in the interests of making the most of these opportunities, and keeping up with the areas of my life that inspire the things I write (twitter, the odd evening class, ghastly television programmes, relationships with actual human beings…), I’m going to split my writing energy between each of them, this blog, and anything else that might happen to come up. So I’ll still be here, but just a little less frequently, and in a less regimented way than before.

3. See more of my chums
There’s nothing like a wedding to highlight how:
a) Super swell your friends and family are; or
b) That everybody you know is deranged and that THANK GOODNESS you only have to bring them all together once.
Thankfully it’s a for us (and if it were b, this would be a very cruel way to say so) and so, this year, I want to spend more time with all of them. Whether it’s a resolution of theirs to spend more time with me is yet to be confirmed.

4. Stop looking at my phone and read a chuffing book
I don’t even want to look at my phone as frequently as I do, it’s just become a reflex, like checking that your purse is where you left it, or that your flies aren’t undone. And, as a result, it takes me four times as long as it should to finish a book because instead of making the most of every reading opportunity I get, I find myself staring at my phone screen and laughing at the latest gif somebody has uploaded of a dog wearing a jumper. So this year I will dedicate more time to stories and less to the animals of the Internet, however well-dressed they may be.

5. Exercise (if I must…)
There always has to be one resolution that you make because you have to, rather than because you want to and mine – just like every year – is exercise. But it’s not so much the exercise itself that I dislike – though if I could just take a pill that would do the same work for me, I’d stick my tongue out right now – it’s all the kerfuffle that comes with it: the complicated gym tops I always get stuck in, the sweating, the constant need for showers… it’s a wonder anybody has the strength for it. But if I want to keep eating Cadbury’s Boosts as frequently as I do, I’m going to need to see past all the fuss and get in that gym. I’m already doing better than last year because I have actually joined one this time. And if there was ever going to be anything that got me out the door and onto an exercise bike – or whatever godforsaken machines they have in those places – it was the promise of hard cash leaving my account every month.

I’ll let you know how I get on.

A very happy new year to you all.

16 things I wish I could put on my Christmas list

22/12/2013 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

1. Pyjamas with built-in Tasers to stun me out of bed in the morning.

2. 200 toilet rolls. The dullest gift ever, perhaps, but not having to buy any for a year or so would be swell.

3. A flesh-coloured umbrella so I can sew the DAMN THING to my skin if that’s what it takes to stop me losing it.

4. As above for my gloves, phone, house keys and Tesco Clubcard.

5. A smartphone that stays charged for more than ten minutes.

6. Every single birthday, Christmas and congratulations for getting a job/car/wife card I need to send next year; written, addressed and stamped, and with alarms set in my phone to remind me when to post them.

7. A mascara that beeps when it disappears under the bed, into my underwear drawer, down the toilet or wherever the hell it goes every morning when I’m trying to make myself look presentable.

8. A device that will tell me all the ingredients I’ve already got at home when I’m in the supermarket and losing the will to live.

9. A television that looks different to each viewer, for example, my husband would see FIFA 14 and The Walking Dead, whilst I would see Coronation Street and Boyzone at 20. (You might think it would be simpler to just get a second television but we live in a one-bedroom London flat and there is not room; the TV we have already doubles up as a dining table.)

10. 365 Cadbury’s Boosts. That should see me through at least half of 2014.

11. Eyebrows that don’t require 24-hour care. Or otherwise enchanted tweezers that can sort them out when I’m asleep and give me my life back.

12. The Dawson’s Creek box set. Nobody is going to buy me that.

13. A robotic laundry basket that will walk downstairs, empty itself into the washing machine and identify the appropriate setting of its own accord. (If it would also come back to empty the machine and pop everything on the rack too that would be ace but I realise that’s a big ask.)

14. Tights so thick it’s like wearing three pairs at once. The combined squeeze of three waistbands is rather uncomfortable.

15. A year’s worth of internet-ready, ROFL-worthy blog posts so I can go back to spending Sunday afternoons like I used to – either eating, shopping or repeatedly avoiding doing the gardening.

16. Perspective.

Merry Christmas readers!

Christmas: We’re all doing it wrong

15/12/2013 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Most people believe that their way of celebrating Christmas is the best. And they’re right.

Christmas is so rooted in tradition – from the hour at which you open your presents, to the length of time you’re expected to wear your paper hat – that it can be hard to believe that other people might do it differently.

Ask a person how they spend Christmas day – the booze fuelled games of Pictionary, the collective afternoon nap – and notice that no matter what they say, you remain silently sure that you and your troupe are still the Kings and Queens of Christmas.

Allow me to demonstrate. I’ll tell you how I spend Christmas day and, as you read, notice how each sentence makes you more and more confident that your way is better. Don’t worry, I won’t be offended.

1. Stockings
These are opened between 9 and 10am in our house (after a quick reminder from mum that “If we don’t get up now, it won’t be worth bothering!”). Our stockings are made up of a combination of items that mum has purchased in the January sales. She’s no fool our mum, she knows that if she’s going to fill a giant sock with items that are actually worth having without having to remortgage the house, she’s going to have to think outside the yuletide box. There is something heart-warming about revealing a bottle of mango flavour body lotion or a box of notelets shaped like a disco ball that you know have been in your mum’s cupboard for a full eleven months on Christmas morning.

2. Arguments
We like to have at least two arguments on Christmas day. They don’t last long, but Christmas isn’t Christmas without some kind of momentary rage, though the contents of our moans have changed as we’ve grown up. Whereas previously we’d start the day with: “Muuum! Nick won’t get up for stockiiings! Will you tell him?! HE’S RUINING MY DAY!” Now it’s: “Charlotte, stop putting make-up on your haggard face and come down for presents, you NOB.” As we have matured, so too have our fights.

3. Food
For some reason we are always running late on Christmas day. Breakfast is therefore not the smoked salmon and bucks fizz extravaganza that Marks and Spencer suggests it should be, but a panicked guzzling of toast or half-cooked boiled eggs before clearing the kitchen so that mum can make a start on “that bastard turkey”. The lunch itself is always very nice, though eaten to the soundtrack of my mum swearing that next year we’re just having frozen lasagne and declaring that we can “just sort ourselves out” for the rest of the day. This is fine by us as it means we can get away with eating more Pringles, cheese and Cadbury’s Miniature Heroes than we’d ever be allowed the rest of the year.

4. Presents
Since the days of waking up at 4 o’clock in the morning on Christmas day, desperate to open all our gifts at once are now far behind us (if I do wake up at that time it’s because I need the toilet or have forgotten to wrap something), we are now able to wait until after lunch to open our gifts. My younger brother doles them out, adding an element of danger to proceedings by reading each label and then hurling the gift at the recipient. The prize for catching yours first time is the respect of the family and a fully intact present.

5. The Quiz
Always a bright boy, my younger brother noticed at an early age that Christmas day evening can be extremely dull. With no more presents to look forward to, or crackers to be pulled, it’s only the promise of a cold meat sandwich that keeps us from our beds. And so, his annual quiz was born. This event has grown from a list of general knowledge questions he wrote at the age of 12, to a two-hour, multimedia spectacular that the now 24-year-old spends three days preparing in the interest of our festive amusement. It’s got a film round, a music round and an intimidating ‘individual questions’ round, and sees us battle into the late hours until my team inevitably wins. No need for a telly in our house, we’ve got the sound of family members shouting “Cheat!” and “But I couldn’t see the screen because Charlotte’s massive head was in the way!” to keep us entertained until bedtime.

Best day ever, right!

No? Still prefer your way? I thought you might say that.

Let’s just agree to disagree.

How to be a grown up at Christmas time

08/12/2013 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

1. Say “Christmas has really crept up on me this year!” at least once a day during December.

2. No longer describe mulled wine as ‘rank hot Ribena’ but ‘delicious’ and ‘the only alcohol I can drink that doesn’t make the room spin.’

3. Harp on about how brilliant It’s a Wonderful Life is, like nobody else has ever watched it before.

4. Announce that you’re off to do some wrapping and ask somebody to come and beatbox for you. Argue that making that joke is evidence that you are definitely still young and cool.

5. Forget to open your advent calendar for a week and eat a bar’s worth of chocolate in one go.

6. Ensure at least 50 per cent of the items on your Christmas list can be described as ‘sensible’. (Mine consists of tights, an umbrella small enough to fit in a handbag, and high quality pyjamas.)

7. Request kitchen utensils as stocking fillers. Pulling that garlic press you’ve always wanted out of a big woolly sock is the best way to kick off Christmas morning.

8. Be the one to suggest going for a walk in the afternoon on Christmas day. Detail the benefits of fresh air to those who protest.

9. Express concern that the feeling of ‘Christmassy’ now doesn’t hit you until mid-December, if at all.

10. Sleep as well on Christmas Eve as you do any other night of the year. (Or possibly better if you’ve been to the pub for a festive pint.)

11. Start criticising the Christmas television schedule before it’s even been published; make jokes about looking forward to seeing Chicken Run “for the umpteenth time!”

12. Admit that one of the best things about Christmas is that it gives you two days off having to interact with the general public.

13. Share the same Christmas anecdote you tell every year and watch your family tolerate it out of traditional politeness. (For example, mine is about Christmas Day 1988 when I was distraught that my Dad wouldn’t let me ride my new bike in the house. I know, SO unreasonable.)

14. Avoid the topic of New Year’s Eve until at least 28th December. Hope you can get away with just spending the evening indoors eating brie.

New year: Are we nearly there yet?

30/12/2012 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Oh good. It’s new year’s eve tomorrow.

You don’t like it, I don’t like it. But why?

“Oh, everyone’s expectations are just too high and then it’s always rubbish”

“Everywhere’s full of knobheads”

“You feel like you have to go out and do something amazing when you’d really just rather stay in and eat Pringles”

Now, whilst these things may all be true, each one could actually be said of any night out, we’re just too eager to avoid being written off as social oddities to admit it.

It seems to me that new year’s eve is merely a scapegoat for every other crappy night out we’ve ever had. The only difference is that we’re allowed to moan about new year, whilst the rest of the year we have to pretend to be up for leaving the house every Friday/Saturday evening when we’d really prefer to stay in and watch Cold Feet.

The problem with new year is its position. Right there at the end of the Christmas period when we all so desperately need a reason not to just crawl into a hole and wait for March, it really can’t win. It would take the discontinuation of No Added Sugar squash, a rail fare decrease and a BOGOF offer on mini marshmallows to make me welcome January with open arms but, let’s face it, that is never going to happen.

My personal disdain for the eve has been built up over a number of years. It started when I was at a new year’s eve house party at the age of about 16 where I witnessed a semi-conscious peer throwing up whichever type of alcohol comes out bright pink all over himself.

In fact, pretty much all my dislike for new year is stemmed in vomit (other people’s, I might add). Why is it that people are so much more likely to throw up on that particular night? Perhaps it’s just a way to pass the time.

Because the other thing about new year that wrinkles my nose is just how long a night it is. If you’re anything like me – i.e with the outer shell of a 24 hour party person but the inner makings of a late twenties pensioner – you will consider midnight to be the end of an evening, assuming that evening has gone extremely well. But on new year’s eve, midnight is the pinnacle, the climax, the whole flamin’ point of the night, so you can’t bugger off just before it. You’ve got to be there, party popper in hand, and your game face on, ready to party into the early hours.

If a normal party does go on ’til 2 or 3 in the morning and the DJ is light on the Hi Ho Silver Lining and heavy on the Village People then of course I will tear up the dance floor with the rest of them. Just don’t tell me before I leave the house that I have to stay that long. Let it be a lovely surprise for me. And a nasty shock for anyone who happens to be in the vicinity.

The trick I’ve learnt for enjoying yourself on new year’s eve is this: just do something you’d happily do any other night of the year. If you don’t like boiling hot and sticky clubs of an ordinary weekend, the odds are you’ll detest them on new year’s eve. And they’ll charge you the price of a five-door vehicle to find out. Similarly, if standing on the Southbank for ten hours isn’t your idea of a day well spent, why do it on what will definitely be one of the colder nights of the year? Up to you though.

No, instead just be yourself in the company of people you like but perhaps throw on a little bit of glitter to get you in the mood. Yes, I am still following the party make-up tips I read in Sugar magazine 11 years ago. They’ve never let me down.

So now all that’s left is to wish you a very happy new year, and a tolerable 31st December.

Oh and watch what you eat this evening. Odds are you’ll see it in reverse tomorrow.

The hosts of Christmas yet to come

23/12/2012 by Charlotte 2 Comments

“So, how are you two spending Christmas this year then?”

We’re asked it every yuletide and the answer is always the same and simply: apart.

Despite many years together and a wedding on the way, it remains the easiest answer to the Christmas conundrum to just spend it separately with our respective families, reuniting as soon as the Pringles run out.

Now, I realise that couples the world over find their way around this dilemma, as could we. But instead we have decided to approach this in the same way as we do anything else challenging – such as DIY or defrosting the freezer – we opt out.

We can compromise about pretty much every other part of your lives. We navigate his love for leaving blocks of cheese open, tepid and alone on the kitchen counter by ensuring I always have a strong supply of tin foil on my person. He keeps his cool after I have fallen asleep on the sofa in an overheated mess yet again by gently reminding me that though I may think that I just want to stay there all night, our bed is actually much more comfortable. We fit. But Christmas is a trickier beast.

You see, Christmas is not about being open minded and considerate of other people’s ideas, it is about sharing age-old traditions with a very specific group of people, and woe betide anyone who dares suggest alterations.

For example, in my house a central tradition is watching A Muppet Christmas Carol on Christmas Eve. My beloved, on the other hand, likes to spend this time going out drinking until he can no longer see. Both great traditions but they don’t hang together. I fear that looking at the muppetised Marley brothers after a few pints could push a man over the edge.

And so it goes on. The time we get up on Christmas Day – me, early; him, only when forced; our choice of Christmas telly – me: Coronation Street and Downton Abbey; him, anything involving zombies; our capacity for festive booze – me, any more than a glass and I won’t be able to participate in the annual Reeve family Christmas quiz; him, just keep bringing booze until he says stop – it helps take the edge off the man-eating dead.

But this doesn’t mean that we’re not together in spirit. We have developed traditions of our own, built around our festive separation. The main one being the annual competition to see who can make the other’s journey home more difficult by giving them the most unwieldy gifts. I think I won this year but it was a close call.

But surely things will change when you’re married, you cry. Well, we’ll see about that. We (I) joke hilariously about how we’ll just have twins immediately and take one each for Christmas (he does the same nervous laugh he does when I mention anything about procreation) but beyond that we don’t have a response.

So for now we’ll carry on as we are, holding onto the one shred of childhood that signing for a mortgage didn’t take away. And though it brings a tear to my eye when we say our goodbyes each December, it won’t be long ’til we’re back together and ready to face another year.

I can only hope that my Christmas presents go down as intended. Being apart means I won’t see his reaction to the double buggy I’ve wrapped for him first hand, but never mind. I’ve got a pretty good idea what that’ll look like.