Don’t read this post if you’re of a sourly, depressed disposition, or if you’re so hard-core Christmas you’ve been covered your house with fairy lights and made them flash in-sync with Band Aid. It’s the 23rd of December and I’m lying in a hostel room on my own. I haven’t been Christmas shopping, and I’ve not wrapped one gift, placed one sparkly bauble on a tree branch, or eaten a mince-pie. The latter due to the fact that mince pies are rotten. I’ve not sent one card, heard one carol, or watched one festive movie. In short, dear readers, Christmas just isn’t the same anymore.
Of course this is partially to do with traveling, but more so the fact that for 30 odd years we’ve had a tradition with the family. My dad is meant to over-cook the carrots. Mum is meant to fall asleep after the Queens speech. My sister is meant to rattle her gifts under the tree every day for three weeks in advance. I’m meant to pretend like I’m not bothered about it all, but inside I’m bouncing like an excited child snorting sugar. The brass band under the street lamp. The glow of the window fairy lights. Putting stupid antlers on the dog and seeing how long before he shook them off. Pulling a cracker. It’s all gone. Apart from the pulling a cracker bit; I did that the other day, but alas the joke was on me.
It makes me think about what we take for granted, and those who are truly lonely this Christmas. Growing up we think we have it all, and perhaps some of us do, but spare some thought to consider how the other half are living. A couple of years ago I invited a homeless man into my home around Christmas time. Granted I’d had a skin-full, but I was never not in control of the situation. After talking for a few hours, I was on the sauce, he was drinking tea, we played some guitar, and talked about why and how he was where he was in life. He told me about his gambling problems and that once he’d had everything; a family, a girlfriend, a good job, a stable income and a roof over his head. Then he lost it all. There by the grace of god go you and I. He commented that he could use a guitar like mine to busk for food, so as he left in the morning I gave it to him. He needed it more than I did.
I feel that sometimes karma falls on deaf ears, and perhaps it maybe doesn’t exist at all. Nonetheless, and undeterred, I’m going to see what I can do on the streets of Vienna these coming days. I’ve decided to leave just after the festivities, as I’m not sure how successful a Christmas Eve hitch would be, and I’ll aim to be in Budapest to see in the New Year. I don’t have a family here to sit down to a meal with, but perhaps I can find someone who doesn’t either, and they just might be very grateful for a turkey and stuffing sandwich.
It just isn’t the same anymore
Don’t read this post if you’re of a sourly, depressed disposition, or if you’re so hard-core Christmas you’ve been covered your house with fairy lights and made them flash in-sync with Band Aid. It’s the 23rd of December and I’m lying in a hostel room on my own. I haven’t been Christmas shopping, and I’ve not wrapped one gift, placed one sparkly bauble on a tree branch, or eaten a mince-pie. The latter due to the fact that mince pies are rotten. I’ve not sent one card, heard one carol, or watched one festive movie. In short, dear readers, Christmas just isn’t the same anymore.
Of course this is partially to do with traveling, but more so the fact that for 30 odd years we’ve had a tradition with the family. My dad is meant to over-cook the carrots. Mum is meant to fall asleep after the Queens speech. My sister is meant to rattle her gifts under the tree every day for three weeks in advance. I’m meant to pretend like I’m not bothered about it all, but inside I’m bouncing like an excited child snorting sugar. The brass band under the street lamp. The glow of the window fairy lights. Putting stupid antlers on the dog and seeing how long before he shook them off. Pulling a cracker. It’s all gone. Apart from the pulling a cracker bit; I did that the other day, but alas the joke was on me.
It makes me think about what we take for granted, and those who are truly lonely this Christmas. Growing up we think we have it all, and perhaps some of us do, but spare some thought to consider how the other half are living. A couple of years ago I invited a homeless man into my home around Christmas time. Granted I’d had a skin-full, but I was never not in control of the situation. After talking for a few hours, I was on the sauce, he was drinking tea, we played some guitar, and talked about why and how he was where he was in life. He told me about his gambling problems and that once he’d had everything; a family, a girlfriend, a good job, a stable income and a roof over his head. Then he lost it all. There by the grace of god go you and I. He commented that he could use a guitar like mine to busk for food, so as he left in the morning I gave it to him. He needed it more than I did.
I feel that sometimes karma falls on deaf ears, and perhaps it maybe doesn’t exist at all. Nonetheless, and undeterred, I’m going to see what I can do on the streets of Vienna these coming days. I’ve decided to leave just after the festivities, as I’m not sure how successful a Christmas Eve hitch would be, and I’ll aim to be in Budapest to see in the New Year. I don’t have a family here to sit down to a meal with, but perhaps I can find someone who doesn’t either, and they just might be very grateful for a turkey and stuffing sandwich.