Twelfth Night

So, we're at Twelfth Night, meaning that Christmas is officially over for another year.  It is also time for my annual lament that, these days, the post New Year bit of Christmas is ignored.  After all that build up, it seems that, as ever, we can't wait to bundle Christmas out of the door with indecent haste.  At least this year, with the latest lockdown, we won't have the usual parade of millionaire business owners (backed up by the right-wing press), demanding that their workers return to work immediately after New Year, (as ever, delivered from the safety of their luxury holiday homes in Barbados or their ski chalets in Switzerland).  We really do need to get back to celebrating Christmas properly, with a full twelve days of festivities.  Maybe next December when, hopefully, Christmas can be be more like 'normal', there will be pressure for the full twelve days to compensate for the lacklustre version we've just experienced.  I have to admit that, even by my anti-social standards, Christmas just didn't feel like Christmas this time around.  The lack of open pubs, the lack of post-Christmas sales due to shops being forced to close, the lack of Christmas markets and the lack of any real attempt by the TV channels to entertain us appropriately, all combined to kill any sense of festivity.

Still, regardless of the quality of this Christmas past, it is Twelfth Night, which means the decorations come down and are packed away for another year.  I must admit that, this year, despite it having been such a muted Christmas, I don't feel as desolated as I usually do to let the season go.  This undoubtedly due to the fact that I'm still on a sabbatical from work, meaning that I don't have to face the prospect of going back to that lousy job at the coldest, most miserable, time of year.  Over the years, Christmas had become a safe haven for me, a temporary respite from that job at the darkest time of year.  An extended period of being able to relax without the prospect of the phone ringing or confrontations both in and outside of the office, without having to deal with increasingly petty and incompetent managers.  I could kick back, drink a few pints and do as I pleased.  This time around, despite the disruptions brought by the pandemic, I haven't felt that I have to pack several months' worth of relaxation and leisure time into a couple of weeks or less, as it would likely be a long haul until my next chance at an extended break from the relentless stress.  It is notable, for instance, that I didn't consume anything close to the amount of alcohol I usually would over Christmas and New Year.  Another reflection, perhaps, of the fact that, this time, I didn't need it to blot out the horrors of returning to work.  But there you go - Christmas is over and yet another lockdown lies ahead.