An Oakley Family Christmas Well another year over, another Christmas and new year flown by as we all sit back in out lazy boys and say “Where did the year go eh?” and then we all hmm and ahh about how quickly it went. To be honest with you, I have to agree that I am one of the millions of teenagers all over the world to which Christmas is met with a “Bah, Humbug”. I don’t really see what there is to look forward to every year. Lets put things in perspective. If you drop a brick on your foot, you go “Ow, that hurt, I won’t do that again”. But looking forward to Christmas each year is like dropping a brick on your foot one year, and then come November going “Y’know, I really can’t wait to drop a brick on my foot again”.
I mean, I can imagine few things more uncomfortable than having to spend Christmas with your family. You arrive and all the oldies go “Ohh, Hasn’t he grown?” and they waffle on about that for 20 minutes before moving onto “ooh, isn’t he handsome”. Just when you think it’s over it moves to “He looks just like his dad he does”. The wonders of genetics strike late.
It ahs taken you half an hour, you are finally all squashed uncomfortably into your grandparents tiny living room. Everyone is looking way too hot in their coats and would take them off but the amount of movement in such a small space would only end in disaster.
Next p, you are offered a drink. You say “yeah, I’ll have a beer please” and everyone looks at you like you are a 7 year old asking for a needle to put his crack in. You are however allowed one beer. Any more and you will be throwing up all over the place. Someone breaks the silence with probably the most feared question of all time: “So, what are you gonna do when you finish school Sam?” This is fine for the people that know, but those of us who don’t and try to explain that we don’t, are only met with tuts and looks of disapproval.
Someone has the good grace to switch on the television to break the monotony of non-conversation. Of course we have to watch something completely bollocks like Noel’s Christmas Party. And whenever anything slightly racy or sexual happens we all sit there uncomfortably pretending we don’t know whats going on. One day I am gonna jump up and go “Cor! Look at the tits on that! I definitely would give her a good seeing to!”
By the end of the evening, everyone is dying to get out, the grandparents are dying to get us out. We all leave quickly after the typical long English good-byes.
Christmas morning is no better, everyone opening gifts and going “Oh look, it’s another pair of Wallace and Grommit socks. Thanks auntie Susan!” or the worst “Oh….it’s a…a…what is it?”. And then, it is over, we sit around in the carnage of wrapping paper and consumerism surrounded by stuff we didn’t want.
Call me scrooge, call me the grinch. But personally, I wish I was Buddhist!
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!