Are we there yet?

"Christmas starts earlier every year". That's become a familiar cry from frazzled parents who have used their entire stock of "wait and see", "Santa only brings presents if you're good" and "ask your father/mother/grandparents" tactics well before 25th December. Certainly we're in the middle of a commercial frenzy at the moment, with TV advertisements pulling at your heartstrings like a tinsel-clad Geoff Capes. But is Christmas really starting earlier?

When I was a teenager, I had a Saturday job working in a toy shop. I was in the male-dominated department that dealt with Airfix kits, Hornby railways, model cars and Star Wars figures. I'd demonstrate electric trains by touching a 9-volt battery against their wheels, which I believed made me look like a worthy adversary to Magneto in the X-Men comics. Come and worship, youngsters. Our Christmas season started in November every year, just as soon as my colleagues round the corner had sold their last box of fireworks. That didn't seem too early, particularly as there'd often be a point when desperate customers needed to wait a week or two for the next delivery of ‘Simon’ from MB Games. (Batteries not included). We wouldn't tape tinsel to the cash registers until around four weeks before the big day but there was no doubting the yuletide anticipation.

Some years later I found myself working in a mobile phone shop. At this point I'd worked out that I wasn't much of a sales person but - much like my toy retailing days - rather enjoyed playing with the products. Once again, our Christmas season kicked off at the beginning of November. Mobile phones were relatively new, very exciting and became the must-have festive gift for 1995. We very literally couldn't get enough. Soon, promotion beckoned... or perhaps the regional manager was desperate to get a real salesman running one of his biggest shops. Either way, I ended up in head office where Christmas planning started as summer ended. By the time real Christmas arrived, I'd been looking at prototype cardboard decorations and seasonal puns for the past three months.

So I don't think that Christmas is starting much earlier. I reckon there's always been a holiday build-up for quite a few weeks. It's even happening here in Ringmer, with various events taking place during November and chocolate advent calendars arriving in the convenience shop. But I think what's changed is that every aspect of retailing is now Christmas-related. It's not just the must-have gifts that are being decked with boughs of holly. It's everything. Anything you're buying for yourself is "stocking up for Christmas", according to advertisers. Anything you're buying for someone else is a potential Christmas present. Headache tablets, puncture repair kits and insulating tape are for Christmas emergencies. Even a cup of coffee is now served in a merry old bowl with a slug of eggnog-flavoured syrup lurking at the bottom and a dollop of cream floating on top.

But what can we do?  Well, I think Tesco has the answer. It sells hot cross buns all year round without any sight of a biblical reference or an Easter bunny. We should demand the same of yule logs, cranberry & brie vol-au-vents, figgy puddings and tinned shortbread biscuits. These should be available every day, from January to December. That way we can enjoy a proper Christmas at the proper time of year without all this marketing fuss.

First published on vivalewes.com 28th November 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/category/east-of-earwig/

There’s no place like moan

I've recently been reminded of my last day at middle school when, as a budding 11-year-old documentary maker, I borrowed dad's cassette tape recorder and asked my teacher to speak some words of wisdom that I could remember him by. "Never trouble trouble 'til trouble troubles you", said Mr Kelly. I recall the moment well, even though my documentary-making career never really took off and I can't find the tape any more. When I think about it, those words could almost be the family motto. If mother had a coat of arms mounted on the wall in place of the kitchen clock, that phrase would be neatly lettered in Latin above a golden shield held by two Jack Russells Rampant.

Another essential family expression is 'mustn't grumble'. This one, unlike the former, isn't to be taken literally. On the contrary, it's usually only added after a minor complaint. "That Dirty Biker should never have been allowed on Strictly. Still, mustn't grumble." Yes, mum’s a fan of the BBC's Strictly Come Dancing despite not always knowing who everyone is. It's watched enthusiastically with notes taken for reference later. But I digress. Sometimes a longer story will involve the occasional use of “well, that was alright” (when it clearly wasn’t alright) to build tension until the conclusion is reached. “I couldn’t find a parking space at first but then somebody moved – well, that was alright – and then the dentist was late back from lunch. Still, mustn’t grumble.”

However, my favourite is ‘it won’t kill you’. Admittedly it’s rarely used these days but I’d hear this fairly regularly as a child. Splinters removed with needles, food that was dropped on the floor and then rinsed under the tap, foul-tasting medicine... all were heralded with “don’t fuss, it won’t kill you.” And, d’you know what? Mum was absolutely right. I am living proof that none of those things my mother reassured me about were deadly. Of course, that’s not to say they weren’t deeply unpleasant. Still, mustn’t grumble.

First published on vivalewes.com 14th November 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/theres-no-place-like-moan/

The wait of responsibility

My mother-in-law has a folding walking stick that snaps together like a sniper's rifle. I'm sure she practices assembling it in the dark because the movement is fluid, swift and unerringly accurate. Either that or one of her previous jobs was covered by the Official Secrets Act. Sadly there's little more I can tell you about my in-laws because I enjoy having them around, which rules out the opportunity for too much comic exaggeration.

Yes, I've been on my best behaviour this week. There's been something of a family reunion with my wife's relatives and her children all variously meeting up here in Ringmer. It was a bit of a step-family reunion for me because - as I've mentioned before - my wife was already equipped with children and cats when we met. This meant I didn't need to trouble myself with the unpleasantness of toilet training for any of the aforementioned creatures. It meant I avoided that supposedly heart-warming stage when babies morph from Winston Churchill clones into real human beings. And it meant I've never changed a nappy.

Yet responsibility has been thrust upon me in the past few days. No, it's not the step-children. They have no need for a fake father figure and I have no desire to be called anything other than my given name. It's not the rest of my wife's family; in fact it's not a relation in any sense. We've volunteered for a spot of dog walking while a couple of friends in the village are away. I say 'we' but really mean 'me'. Anyway, I've been strolling around with a little chap who was supplied with an extending lead and a handful of small black bags. It's surprising how much friendlier Ringmer is if you have a dog. Barely a person passes me without a smile or a 'hello'. It could be my four-legged friend that's attracting all the attention but I'm basking in it regardless. We walk through the village engaged in non-stop conversation with each other. Admittedly it's fairly basic stuff - I'm all "who's a good boy?" and he's simply smiling back at me - but it's great fun.

And at some point during our evening constitutional, he'll strike a pose and I'll prepare one of those black bags to clear up his doggy gift. As I walk home with a dog lead in one hand and a disconcertingly warm bag in the other, I feel surprisingly happy. Maybe all this responsibility is good for me. Or perhaps I'm just relieved that dogs don't wear nappies.

First published on vivalewes.com 1st November 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/the-wait-of-responsibility/