The early morning assault on the supermarket is the second in two days. Not my first choice for marking the Solstice, I might add. Yesterday I braved the manic portals in search of the traditional ‘lad’s night’ Christmas dinner for my sons and their friend, and prepared it ready for finishing in the oven. Let’s not forget cake decorating, wrapping, cards, Christmas trees and tinsel… and all the attendant mayhem we indulge in at this time of year.

Okay, it is a lot gentler these days, with the boys grown and in homes of their own, yet still the family traditions must be respected, even though on a much reduced scale.

The best Christmas ever was amongst the most frugal. My late partner had been fighting cancer for some time and the finances were none existent. With a lot of florist’s ribbon, some old computer components and a huge amount of laughter, we spent the whole of December making decorations as a family… most I still have, some I still get carefully out every year. The little Christmas tree and the wreath were amongst the most impressive considering they were made entirely from ribbons, a tad crushed and faded these days… the small toys knitted by my grandmother a little battered, the boxes wrapped for my son’s very first Christmas tree a bit shabby these days…. but the memories are bright.

Christmas morning with my sons was always a delight… that moment when their faces lit up, walking into the room where carols played softly… it never mattered that the parcels contained small, silly things. There were only the four of us, seldom any gifts from others, so it was a small pile each and one to share… usually something we, as a family, could play together. That year ingenuity took the place of funds… they didn’t notice. It was the laughter of the moment that mattered… and we made them laugh with their gifts. The family gift was a small snooker table… and yes, I wrapped the darned thing… it took up most of the floor.

My partner and the boys set it up in my younger son’s huge bedroom while I cooked Christmas lunch, an apron over the black lace cocktail frock and ‘sparklies’ which, according to my sons, I had to wear for Christmas… even though I was utterly overdressed!… a huge departure from the usual practical jeans.

Lunch over, we played snooker, teaching the boys the rules and laughing. I left them to it late afternoon, to fill the table with carved vegetables, pretty salads and all the usual treats that go with Christmas. One thing I will not do is make the mince pies in advance. I love fresh pastry… light and crisp from the oven. I make a mean mince pie…

Then the second round of fun started. Teatime at mine was always open house on Christmas Day, we never knew if we would have guests or not so each arrival was a gift. Friends arrived with their children, my sons’ pals turned up on the doorstep, lured, no doubt, by the smell of fresh pastry… I was used to that, ever since the day years earlier when a group of the local children had knocked on the door. I assumed they had come to call for my sons, but no, “Are you baking again today?” They had come to call for the pastries.

But I digress. That year we had a houseful. Memory and the pictures tell me that we had at least ten children and their attendant adults call for tea… which spilled over into supper. The house was crowded and laughter filled every room. It was entirely unplanned and informal… and definitely the best Christmas ever.

It wasn’t the money we had spent… for we had none. It wasn’t anything you could show or label… it was the time together, the laughter, the smiles of friends and the sense of ‘family’ gathered, not through duty or habit, but because they wanted to be there… together.

In contrast the other ‘best Christmas’, there were just two of us, kir royale and a table glowing with candles…but that is another story….

I admit to a certain wistfulness wandering round the supermarket, watching folks get ready for a busy few days. Mine will be very quiet affairs… yes, plural. I’m having two. Christmas day I shall share with my eldest son the home-cooked traditional meal… and watch Ani have her own Christmas jumping all over him and my younger son when he arrives later.

But first I have a weekend, and by Friday evening there will be only one word for it. Leisurely. That is the plan, a leisurely pre-Christmas weekend with a friend. Although Ani won’t see it that way and will think Christmas has come early when we get back from the station.

“The watchword of leisurely…nothing to do and all day to do it…”

Sounds rather like heaven at this point of the year, doesn’t it? Very like heaven… and while the rest of the town hustles and bustles in a hive of activity… I get to go there this weekend. The only reason for venturing near the town at all will be the cinema to see The Hobbit … all other activity is entirely optional.

I may be gone some time…