Writing for Fun
January 2016
Christmas 2015 - Reg Pound
Another Christmas over!
It's the 12th day.
Time to put the decorations away for another year.
I'm not sure why I bother to put decorations up at all or why they have to come down by the 12th day.
Force of habit and tradition I suppose.
My parents always used to put up Christmas decorations.
In the early days I used to make paper chains, also Dad would buy some decorations from Woolworths. I liked those that opened up into a large ball and those that opened into a bell. They would be used as a centrepiece for our homemade paper chains.
Even during our 'hard up' years when my parents couldn't afford bought out decorations we would make paper chains from old magazines cut up into strips. The strips would be stuck into loops with glue borrowed (?) from Woolworths. It was easy to help oneself those days from open counters.
When I married and left home – no living together without marriage in those days – at Christmas my wife would put decorations in our hall and lounge. Passage and Front Room as they used to be called. Pam, my wife, like my parents, would always insist they were taken down and packed away by the 12th day.
I lost track as to why. I am not sure that they knew, they reckoned it was unlucky not to. Some sort of urban legend I expect. Anyway they always come down, but luck did not seem to change. So I would take my decorations down just in case that by not doing so my luck would get worse.
However, before it is all finally packed away. I perform a ritual that I have carried out for a few years now. That is to drink a toast in memory of those of whom I shall not hear.
I'll tell you what I do.
The teenage, mainly female staff, in the packing department, where I am manager, would be amazed. They think that I am an unfeeling 'not surprised his wife left him' old fool.
Personally I don't think 55 is very old.
As a matter of fact I did like to identify myself with Gerry Standing, the character Dennis Waterman plays in 'New Tricks', a programme on telly. That was until one day I heard a new girl talking just outside the window to my office – well, cubby hole really – where the staff sneak out to smoke, saying, the boss – me – reminded her of Brian Lane, he is a character in the same show. If you have seen the programme you will know why my self-image took a knock.
I soon had her transferred to the Storeroom. She isn't able to sneak out for a quick smoke with beady eyed Mary as her supervisor.
But I digress, back to my ritual of how I pay homage to past friends and relatives.
What I do is make a sort of shrine of the last Christmas card sent to me by each one. Sadly the size of the shrine increases every year.
I expect you wonder how I know which card will be the last.
Well it started by accident.
When Pam, my ex wife, left, things were not kept as tidily as before. After Christmas I just dumped cards in a box in the back of a cupboard.
There were plenty of empty cupboards after she had gone.
After several years I eventually had a clear out and as I looked through the old cards I realised I still had many from those I received no more. I saved them and I have since collected each year's cards and only throw away those from whom I have heard in the current year. I am thus left with those that form my shrine and to whom I give my current toast.
This year Pam sent a card. The first I have heard from her since she left. It had the simple words 'Hope you are well. Happy Christmas Best wishes for the New Year – Pamela.'
When I received it I was tempted just to throw it away, but I didn't and here it is to remind me what I did do. She had signed herself 'Pamela.' When we were together it had always been 'Pam'. It was 'Pam' on our marriage certificate and divorce papers. She had stuck an address label on the envelope. Did she expect me to reply?
Some hope, I thought.
But I changed my mind.
I sent a card. I sent it late so as not to arrive before Christmas and also did not put a stamp on it. If she wanted to hear from me, let her pay for it. I signed it, 'Greetings from Reginald and Melody.' Let her be puzzled as to who Melody is.
Now her card is for the shredder. I do not want it to contaminate my shrine.