Ho! Ho! Ho! Chasing The Magic

Can you have too much festive cheer? Andrew Spires looks back on Christmases past, and discovers what really makes the season shine

Christmas time, mistletoe and wine, and brandy, and a big turkey, creamed onions, smoked salmon, ham hock, presents for the stockings, presents for the wife and kids, my nieces and nephews on both sides and the door staff.

Christmas is all about giving but I’m giving myself a hernia to ensure the big day is a magical success. Not that I mind. I adore Christmas. It ranks just behind my birthday and Halloween, but I have found myself wondering whether I should rein it in a bit.

The spirit of Christmas is a warm and fuzzy mulled wine afterglow. It’s a yearning for something just beyond reach; a tip of the tongue, fingertip stretch away that is always just out of grasp, like the memory of a vivid dream. I’m forever chasing the festive dragon from a time when all I had to worry about was double maths and Saturday evening television.

In the UK when I was little, Christmas was pure magic. It was tradition for my parents to take my sister and I to church on Christmas Eve for a sing-song before inviting everyone back to ours for a big party. The scent of cigars and musk perfume still transports me back to those late-night Christmas Eves. My parents would always have too much to drink and then have to lay out all the presents for Christmas morning (the ones Santa didn’t bring). And inevitably I’d end up with my sister’s gifts and she’d end up with an Action Man. Now I’ve been passed the baton of keeping the magic alive for my two kids.

There was a teenager in Scandinavia who sued his parents for emotional distress due to the lengths they went to keep him believing in Santa. Well into his teens, his family would set up a tableau deep in the Nordic woods of the Big Man in Red and his brightly lit sleigh. They’d then drive past it slowly, so their boy would see it. They did variations of this year on year. Genius parenting, but the kid clearly didn’t think so.

Whilst I’m not that neurotic (or inventive), I do go to some lengths to hide my role. I buy and hide wrapping paper that only gets used for Christmas presents from St Nick. I create a dusting of ‘snow’ from the balcony into the apartment embedded with footprints. The carrot that’s left out gets chewed by the dog, with scraps strewn over the balcony; the cookies are devoured by yours truly but I’m careful to leave some crumbs.

My two are 10 and 8 and whilst the eight-year old is still deep in the lore of Father Christmas, my eldest now gives me a quizzical side-eye when I offer an explanation as to how a chap who lives in the North Pole can circumnavigate the globe in one night, carrying enough presents for all those on the ‘nice list’, whilst riding a flying sleigh powered by eight reindeer. Much like Jesus to his disciples, I tell her she has to have faith.

The big Christmas family gathering is always at our apartment. We only have a small countertop oven, so I usually prep most of the food the day before. Pigs in blankets, the bird – the biggest I can find that will fit in the oven – and a nut roast for my veggie family members can all be done in advance and reheated. Yorkshire puddings too. (Top tip for Yorkshire puddings: once they’re in the oven, under pain of death, do not open the oven door.) That leaves peeling and chopping for Christmas day, which can be done in between present opening and champagne quaffing. It’s imperative to get a glass of fizz in you by 10am. Don’t forget in all the chaos that people will still want breakfast, so have something ready to deploy that doesn’t consume too many pans and counter space.

Presents are a contentious issue in my house. How many is too many? One friend suggests you get the kids a maximum of three gifts: one they want, one they need and one they can wear. As much sense as that makes, I find it impossible to stop there. For one they have stockings that need filling. The tradition of hanging stockings stems from the 4th century when legend has it, St Nicholas got news of a widowed father of three girls who was very poor and was unable to provide for them. To help the family out, he threw gold through an open window of their house, which landed in a pair of socks hung by the fire to dry. Since then, people hang their socks, or stockings, with care, in the hope that St Nicholas will furnish them with gold.

My wife’s family are born-and-bred Hong Kongers and don’t buy into all the festive fuss. One year, I had just finished decorating the Christmas table and polishing the silverware, about to bring out the starters for the Christmas feast, when my father-in-law came in and said he wouldn’t be having lunch with us as he’d just been to Fairwood. I suddenly didn’t feel quite so Christmassy.

Christmassy is a hard feeling to quantify. Christmas in Hong Kong doesn’t feel that Christmassy in comparison to the UK. It took me a few years of living here to figure out why. The answer seems to be the weather and annual leave. People in the UK take a week off over the festive period. That extra time off results in family time. Christmas in Hong Kong is celebrated as a Hallmark afterthought. Things only feel Christmassy in Hong Kong at Chinese New Year, which must be due to family gatherings, feasts and gift giving. Just like Christmas in the UK but with better decorations.

I used to work at New Scotland Yard. I was in the office on a chilly and wet Christmas Eve when the then Commissioner of Police burst in at around 2pm and shouted, “What the &%$ are you still doing here? $#& off home, it’s Christmas Eve.” I don’t think you’d ever get that in an office in Hong Kong!

Through all the consumerism and faff, Christmas is a magical time. The lead-up to the big day is a cooking pot of shared nostalgia, upholding time-honoured traditions and a giddy anticipation for the excitement to come. It’s like looking forward to the first sip of a cold beer on a hot day. Once you’ve had the sip, the magic is lost. So this year, I’ll be focusing on the important bits. I don’t remember what gifts I received as a kid, but I do remember playing boardgames with my parents and being trapped under my sleeping father on the sofa watching E.T. The magic of Christmas lies in the people you spend it with, and I can’t wait to spend it with my beautiful family.