paul capewell’s blog

As you may know, I’m not the biggest fan of Christmas. This has changed a bit in recent years, with the arrival of my beautiful nephews – truly, Christmas is all about all the little kiddies, God bless ‘em. But also, with going away to university, it means that I Come Home For Christmas which makes such a big difference. Coming home this year has worked like this: coming from a big city where the impending festive season is unavoidable, through snow and cold temperatures, to a small town bustling with Christmas anticipation, to a mum who makes me feel incredibly warm, welcome and well-fed in what is now predominantly her home, and to a loving family laying on a wonderful Christmas dinner with lots of hugs, cheer and drinks.

It’s hard to grumble when this is what Christmas means. And it’s all why, over the last few years, Christmas has become more and more appealing to me. This year I’m pretty excited about it, to be honest!

And I had a sort of epiphany the other night, as I tucked into Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. I’ve not read it before and I decided that a deliciously wintry Victorian story was just what I wanted to read. The edition I bought has a few extra Dickens short stories and articles, and the one chosen to go at the start of my edition really opened my eyes. It’s called Christmas Festivities or A Christmas Dinner, depending on the edition, and was featured in Bell’s Life in London from 27 December 1835 under the pen-name ‘Tibbs’. I include a few passages that touched me here:

There are people who will tell you that Christmas is not to them what it used to be – that each succeeding Christmas has found some cherished hope or happy prospect of the year before, dimmed or passed away – and that the present only serves to remind them of reduced circumstances and straitened incomes – of the feasts they once bestowed on hollow friends, and of the cold looks that meet them now, in adversity and misfortune. Never heed such dismal reminiscences.

… [D]o not select the merriest of the three hundred and sixty-five for your doleful recollection, but draw your chair nearer the blazing fire – fill the glass, and send round the song – and, if your room be smaller than it was a dozen years ago, or if your glass is filled with reeking punch instead of sparkling wine, put a good face on the matter, and empty it off-hand, and fill another, and troll off the old ditty you used to sing, and thank God it’s no worse. Look on the merry faces of your children as they sit round the fire.

… Reflect upon your present blessings – of which every man has many – not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some. Fill your glass again, with a merry face and a contented heart. Our life on it but your Christmas shall be merry, and your new year a happy one.

It’s a lovely article though, with descriptions of a family Christmas dinner, and I highly recommend you read it all if you need a little reminder of why Christmas is so special. The full text of it is available on this page.