Introduced by Holly King
“Have a holly jolly Christmas, it’s the best time of the year…” I sing to myself as I put up the Christmas decorations on a respectable date (I held out until 30th November). I put them up alone last year as well, as I live alone, so there’s no change there; although I do hope to show off my decorations to more people, if only via Zoom. This year, as I transform my flat into my Christmas corner, I feel like I’m fighting off a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.
I love a Christmas song, especially one that has my name in it, that doesn’t know whether there’ll be snow, but agrees that cheer is most important. It’s a double-edged sword this year, though, for my favourite part of the holiday is saying hello to friends I know and everyone I meet. If my enthusiasm could ever be infectious, it would be at Christmas. My cheer shines brighter than Rudolph’s nose – but can you still see it, if it’s inside?
And what about my love of gift gifting? Presents sent in the post aren’t as personal, and this year, sparkly wrapping paper seems obtuse.
So, how do we celebrate Christmas in 2020? I know many people experience difficulties during this time of year, even before COVID, so perhaps this has allowed them a little respite in gift-giving; an external factor that allows others to understand how difficult and expensive gifts are.
This year, we’ve all revaluated what’s really important, and it isn’t things, it’s people. People are the real gift I’ve been missing this year. People give life colour, not trinkets and gadgets (although I know I’m privileged enough to enjoy those too). So, I decided to create a new tradition: for every person I wished happy birthday to, I included a message about my favourite memory I had of them or told them how they had changed my life. I’ve only done it for three people so far, but each has been a success. I was so scared they would think I was hyperbolic or odd, storing up memories and placing too much emphasis on our interactions; or that they would just wish I had sent some money in a card. But you know what, surprisingly, people like to know they make a difference, that they’ve left an imprint on you.
So, if you’re experiencing hardship in 2020, or want to give your gift that extra pizzazz because you’re unable to spend time with those you love, perhaps give the gift of thoughtfulness. As creatives, we have the amazing ability to create gifts. How wonderful, to have a sketch, poem or piece of music created for you? How special, to have a one-of-a-kind present? And I don’t believe they have to be commercial ‘works of art’; a riff, a caricature, a limerick, a gesture, is just as precious if it’s done with love. My grandad probably can’t remember any of the Christmas presents I’ve given him over the last decade (but booze and slippers are his usual request) but he’s kept every one of the cards, poems and stories I’ve made for him since I was three, all signed and dated.
Creativity is boundless, unique and timeless. It’s sparked from the relationship that only you and the recipient hold and is a truly honest way to express how important someone is.
This year, I’ll continue my new tradition by garnishing my gifts with little Holly-thoughts, and promises of meeting up, of spending time with my loved ones, and eventually hugging away the cold this Christmas will bring, without them to hold.
Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, though, reader. Here’s your early present (Santa said it’s OK to open now): some photos of Dylan, who is clearly enjoying the festivities, and a Christmas greeting from us all at Pen to Print.