The Devil’s Christmas Hat
I love Christmas I always have.
To me it signified family, fun and of course loads of presents. My extended family is quite large (my Mum the oldest of five) and silliness was always prevalent. In particular, our tradition silly songs such as the Ying Tong Song and A Laughing Christmas. I don’t know whether your family has these but they are the types of song that no-one outside your family will ever understand... to be honest I can’t explain it. A song which has someone laughing to the tune of Jingle Bells on an old crackly 45 record simply reduces us all to hysterics, till our faces are screwed up in that uncontrollable ‘ugly’ laughing way.
Anyway I digress. It was the first time in a few years the whole family was spending Christmas together. Anticipation for the day was high. My excitement in particular was paramount, this would mean lots of ‘ugly’ laughing, my grandfather doing his numerous impressions and ‘flashing’ everyone... with his camera. A jolly man, he could in fact be Santa. My grandmother, a homey, kind lady always laid on the best spread but never heard anything anyone said, she claimed it was deafness, we believe it is selective.
The other final element which will play a prominent role in the story and all our family gatherings is alcohol. Is a story complete without some drunken fool declaring their genius and righteousness? No well that must be just me. So with high expectations for Christmas, being as it was when we were children – now I was a naive adult – and alcohol the day could go either way for me, angel or devil. Which would be present at the overdecorated, food filled lunch table? The devil came, sitting smugly against my neck whispering how far superior my opinion was to all at the table. For I am the oldest grandchild and I am to be obeyed. Just as well your family has to love unconditionally.
Now if they had been white bubbles, the angel living in my heart and head may have been stronger, able to suppress the wild bull. The bull wore burgundy eyewear and saw continuous red. It all began quite innocent and sensible (well I thought the entire discussion was sensible) and it was a simple conversation. The topic, which I cannot remember now, isn’t (and wasn’t) important, the only thing of significance was I’m sensible and right. Or so the little voice on my shoulder informed me.
The discussion with my male cousin, who had the unfortunate position opposite me and a tendency to provoke, rose in intensity and sound. No-one declared ‘you’re being too loud’ or ‘let’s agree to disagree’ or something equally as reasonable. The only voice which spoke was one who told me, ‘you are a genius’. Now I believe my cousin was holding his own, he is a rational adult, as I am, he can fend for himself? Being offensive, me? Never. Whether I was or not is another of those lost recollections, like the topic.
Perhaps it went too far, the voices way too loud, the angel in me will tell me now. So it was about this point, when lunch had concluded, when his mother (my uncle’s wife) decided to intervene. Probably being far too hard or harsh (never) on my poor younger cousin, his Mum needed to force the bull back to the pen. Well in her ill conceived mind anyway. Devil.
Her words to this day aren’t clear, something along the lines of “I think you are being unfair.” Fraid these words were the red cape, the matador was in for a charge. How could anyone accuse me of being unjust? I am the Queen of Fair. I believe in justice for all. Angel.
“How is this any of your fucking business? Fucking stay out of it.” My possession was complete. The words spew forth of their own volition. Yes just like The Exorcist.
The devil stopped speaking at this point, left me and the poor embarrassed angel to fend for themselves and the bull went off to stamp and blow smoke from its nose in another room.
So here it was, my favourite day of the year, I’d told my aunty (by marriage I tell you) where to go and I had ruined Christmas forever. The devil had turned on me now, throwing in the guilty conscience and after causing all the problems too. Leaving me to deal with the aftermath. Traitor. I had momentarily sworn in front of my grandparents and had officially taken the title of black sheep.
My aunty came to sooth, for the devil evoked tears of remorse now and the angel shook her head. After some calming and soothing from my favourite and most wonderful relative, I was ready to apologise and face the music. We ventured out to find out my uncle and his family had left. Wonderful, the bull had charged and chased them away.
Ready to eat humble pie I turned to my grandparents to apologise for my despicable behaviour and outburst. (You will note at this point my parents have said nothing. I can do no wrong in their eyes, it’s an only child thing).
My Nana’s response, “That’s ok dear, I missed it.”
My Papa’s response, “It’s is about time someone said that to her.”
Hoorah I was a genius again and had, while wearing my red bubbled Satan hat in the guise of a paper Christmas one, done exactly what everyone else had always wanted to do but didn’t because they are not Jekyl and Hyde with a drinking problem. Unfortunately though the illusion was shattered forever. Christmas wasn’t like when we were children when the adults ‘hid’ their true feelings and we lived in ignorant bliss of the real world. Yes it would always be about family but without the innocence of a child, it really is one big gorging session. Would I now become the Grinch? Thinking Christmas was a lie. No, I have simply lowered my unreal expectations now.
Suffices to say I drink less (well slightly) and my uncle is now divorced. Christmas is pleasant again.
To me it signified family, fun and of course loads of presents. My extended family is quite large (my Mum the oldest of five) and silliness was always prevalent. In particular, our tradition silly songs such as the Ying Tong Song and A Laughing Christmas. I don’t know whether your family has these but they are the types of song that no-one outside your family will ever understand... to be honest I can’t explain it. A song which has someone laughing to the tune of Jingle Bells on an old crackly 45 record simply reduces us all to hysterics, till our faces are screwed up in that uncontrollable ‘ugly’ laughing way.
Anyway I digress. It was the first time in a few years the whole family was spending Christmas together. Anticipation for the day was high. My excitement in particular was paramount, this would mean lots of ‘ugly’ laughing, my grandfather doing his numerous impressions and ‘flashing’ everyone... with his camera. A jolly man, he could in fact be Santa. My grandmother, a homey, kind lady always laid on the best spread but never heard anything anyone said, she claimed it was deafness, we believe it is selective.
The other final element which will play a prominent role in the story and all our family gatherings is alcohol. Is a story complete without some drunken fool declaring their genius and righteousness? No well that must be just me. So with high expectations for Christmas, being as it was when we were children – now I was a naive adult – and alcohol the day could go either way for me, angel or devil. Which would be present at the overdecorated, food filled lunch table? The devil came, sitting smugly against my neck whispering how far superior my opinion was to all at the table. For I am the oldest grandchild and I am to be obeyed. Just as well your family has to love unconditionally.
Now if they had been white bubbles, the angel living in my heart and head may have been stronger, able to suppress the wild bull. The bull wore burgundy eyewear and saw continuous red. It all began quite innocent and sensible (well I thought the entire discussion was sensible) and it was a simple conversation. The topic, which I cannot remember now, isn’t (and wasn’t) important, the only thing of significance was I’m sensible and right. Or so the little voice on my shoulder informed me.
The discussion with my male cousin, who had the unfortunate position opposite me and a tendency to provoke, rose in intensity and sound. No-one declared ‘you’re being too loud’ or ‘let’s agree to disagree’ or something equally as reasonable. The only voice which spoke was one who told me, ‘you are a genius’. Now I believe my cousin was holding his own, he is a rational adult, as I am, he can fend for himself? Being offensive, me? Never. Whether I was or not is another of those lost recollections, like the topic.
Perhaps it went too far, the voices way too loud, the angel in me will tell me now. So it was about this point, when lunch had concluded, when his mother (my uncle’s wife) decided to intervene. Probably being far too hard or harsh (never) on my poor younger cousin, his Mum needed to force the bull back to the pen. Well in her ill conceived mind anyway. Devil.
Her words to this day aren’t clear, something along the lines of “I think you are being unfair.” Fraid these words were the red cape, the matador was in for a charge. How could anyone accuse me of being unjust? I am the Queen of Fair. I believe in justice for all. Angel.
“How is this any of your fucking business? Fucking stay out of it.” My possession was complete. The words spew forth of their own volition. Yes just like The Exorcist.
The devil stopped speaking at this point, left me and the poor embarrassed angel to fend for themselves and the bull went off to stamp and blow smoke from its nose in another room.
So here it was, my favourite day of the year, I’d told my aunty (by marriage I tell you) where to go and I had ruined Christmas forever. The devil had turned on me now, throwing in the guilty conscience and after causing all the problems too. Leaving me to deal with the aftermath. Traitor. I had momentarily sworn in front of my grandparents and had officially taken the title of black sheep.
My aunty came to sooth, for the devil evoked tears of remorse now and the angel shook her head. After some calming and soothing from my favourite and most wonderful relative, I was ready to apologise and face the music. We ventured out to find out my uncle and his family had left. Wonderful, the bull had charged and chased them away.
Ready to eat humble pie I turned to my grandparents to apologise for my despicable behaviour and outburst. (You will note at this point my parents have said nothing. I can do no wrong in their eyes, it’s an only child thing).
My Nana’s response, “That’s ok dear, I missed it.”
My Papa’s response, “It’s is about time someone said that to her.”
Hoorah I was a genius again and had, while wearing my red bubbled Satan hat in the guise of a paper Christmas one, done exactly what everyone else had always wanted to do but didn’t because they are not Jekyl and Hyde with a drinking problem. Unfortunately though the illusion was shattered forever. Christmas wasn’t like when we were children when the adults ‘hid’ their true feelings and we lived in ignorant bliss of the real world. Yes it would always be about family but without the innocence of a child, it really is one big gorging session. Would I now become the Grinch? Thinking Christmas was a lie. No, I have simply lowered my unreal expectations now.
Suffices to say I drink less (well slightly) and my uncle is now divorced. Christmas is pleasant again.