My hair, such as it is, had begun to have the ‘mad professor’ look, so I went to see my barber. I like him and we have interesting conversations. He proceeded to accomplish the comparatively easy task of reducing my appearance to its alternative pseudo-skinhead look.

We were talking generally and then R. asked me if I enjoyed Christmas. I said I did, though with some reservations over the pressure of commerce and the media which so easily reduces the festival to a programmed event without soul. I said that for me the heart of the season was still the story which prompts it. Planning the annual family event and then having everyone together from our different homes and countries, is the highlight of our year. Of course too many expectations are loaded onto the celebration of Christmas. It’s got to be a success or we feel somehow that we have failed it! But I know it will be a good time for us and the people we love, and I said so. (I didn’t want to stress the family thing too much because R.

has no children).

R. leaned over me and facing me through the mirror, hissed, ‘I shall be glad, Bryan, when it’s over’. There was a weariness which saddened me, though R. said he looked forward more to the New Year, which was more hopeful. But I had a vision of how he and many others no doubt would feel alienated from the joy and magic of Christmas, which still works for some.

So he left me reflecting on why for me Christmas remains so important. Carols in the company of successive congregations and out on the streets through the years.Certainly the family thing, which is a sort of sacrament of the nativity itself, for it all begins with the birth of a child and the nurturing of parents. But also of course, the memories,and for those of us who have lived many years, there are inevitably a lot of them. The people who are no longer with us.

The toys when we were younger – such as the steam engine I was given when seven years old. It provided the power to do several jobs and my father and someone else who I don’t remember, took it over and to my chagrin I became an observer instead of its proud practitioner. My grandpa who each year said the same about the Christmas ham (‘not as good as last year’). Many years later, our first born, and then her sisters and their first years, as they defined our expanding family; and now their children too.

If you read this around the time that I am writing it – Happy Christmas!

Bryan