The Least Wonderful Time of the Year
And recollections from The Most including Michelle Obama comparisons, robotic pandas, and ketamine. Obviously.
For people who are active on LinkedIn, wake up at 5 a.m. for ice baths, and drink kale smoothies, I’m sure the start of a new year is a time of optimism and renewed vigour. For 38-year-old men who consist almost entirely of craft ale, Camembert cheese and Lindt chocolate and have felt fresher than this on day 3 of an Eastern European stag do, I can confirm it is not. By the time this post goes out, I will be at work, trying to advise people who have been released from prison about poor decisions they have made.
The festive season was, as it always is, fun but utterly exhausting.
Now the boys are both in school, it goes on for a lot, lot longer, too. The emotional rollercoaster of Joshua thinking he didn't have a part in the nativity before discovering he was, in fact, a wise man back in November feels like a lifetime ago and I have aged. Poorly.
Also, at the start of December, Louise became chair of the school PTA. This is, of course, a lovely thing to do, she will be dead good at it, and I’m proud of her for giving up her time to arrange things that will benefit the boys and their mates. I did not, however, voluntarily sign up to be First Gentleman with the myriad responsibilities this brings; within days of starting my new role, I was roped into eagerly participating in manning a mince pie stand at the nativity and helped supervise a carol singing trip to the local community centre (which went on until 11.30 a.m. despite an advertised 10.15 a.m. finish but I was absolutely fine about this.)
Then, the morning after the final nativity, Louise dumped a Morrisons bag full of shortbread biscuits on me without warning.
“These are the leftovers. Can you hand them out?”
“I’m sorry, what? To who?”
“The other parents in the playground, Andy. It’s not that hard.”
“Really? Do I ha…”
“FINE. JUST THROW THEM IN THE BIN.”
I sensed this would not have been a wise course of action and, after dropping the boys off, stood in the pissing rain offering biscuits to anyone who’d listen while being shot, understandably, some very odd glances.
As well as the surplus shortbread, we ended up with tens of empty bottles which warranted, and I don’t say this lightly, a look of utter disgust from a binman. I wanted to shout to him:
“Please don’t judge us. It’s non-alcoholic mulled wine. It’s from the nativity! WE’RE GOOD PEOPLE!”
Honestly, this new role is full-on. I need to read Michelle Obama’s book for inspiration. Perhaps I could arrange a lunch with her and Cherie Blair?
It was my mum’s 70th just before Christmas, and we had a gathering at our house before going to the local pub for dinner on, what is known in Leeds, as “Mad Friday.” (I’m reliably informed this has different names depending on where you are in the UK. “Blackeye Friday” in the Northeast sounds particularly sinister.) A family pub in suburbia was, thankfully, not all that mad and we had a good night. While we were having a final glass of fizz, though, my dad went to the toilet and did not return.
“Shall we go check on him?” I asked my brother after, I don’t know, twenty minutes.
As our search party commenced, my dad came barrelling out of the door, ashen-faced.
“I thought he was DEAD, Andrew!”
“What? Who’s dead?”
“There was a man passed out in the cubicle. I thought he was DEAD!”
“Ok, calm down…”
It turned out the man was not dead. His friend informed my dad they’d both taken ketamine on their work Christmas Do, which seems - and I’m sorry if this comes across as prudish - an absolutely horrific idea.
As we were waiting for taxis, my dad explained that he’d chucked cold water in the man’s face to wake him up, then got help from the bar staff who had called an ambulance. It sounded like he’d dealt with the crisis well, but he was understandably flustered, and it was not a calm end to the evening.
“Right, see you all later. Happy bir…”
My dad, scrolling his phone, interrupted.
“It says here it’s horse tranquillizer, Andrew. Why would anyone take horse tranquillizer?”
“Happy birthday, mother.”
We always spend Christmas in Leeds but - and I suggest you get comfortable here, ready for a twist to rival The Sixth Sense…
NOT Leeds in West Yorkshire.
My in-laws live in Leeds, Kent, a village 200+ miles away and, to be honest, I don’t think I give anywhere near enough credit to how weird this is.
With trying to hold down an actual job alongside my PTA duties, two very excitable children, and a Substack blog to keep up with, by the time we were driving down South, in a car overloaded with bags and boxes, I was running on empty. This became apparent at a Starbucks Drive-Thru where we stopped to spend approximately 7 grand on drinks and snacks.
“What can I get you, sir?”
“Two lattes and a mecan and paple…”
“Sorry?”
“A macle and peba…”
“Huh?”
Ok, take a breath, I’ve got this.
“A meeple…”
ARGH. WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY CALLED?
I turned to Louise for support, but she was too busy laughing, absolutely loving it.
Every Christmas Eve, we go to a light show at Leeds Castle with Louise’s mum and sister which is always fantastic. This time, though, we went on a Ferris wheel (pictured) which just went around unnecessarily fast. I sat with Jacob, who was enjoying it a lot more than me, and, as we whizzed up to the highest point, called back to Louise and Joshua.
“Are you alright?”
Another woman - not my wife - shouted back.
“No, I’m not. This is f*cking terrifying!”
Excellent.
On Christmas Eve 2023, I went outside the boys’ bedroom and played a jingling bells sound effect. Joshua opened the curtains to see his dad holding an iPhone in one hand, a can of San Miguel in the other, and I feared I’d ruined Christmas forever. Gladly, I just about managed to blag my way out of it (“I was only joking…”) and we think they are still believers. We put out mince pies and carrots, Louise and I read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas and the magic of the occasion remains - just about - intact.
They slept surprisingly well and sprung up on Christmas morning, bouncing off the walls/into our bed, while I massaged my temples and drank a strong coffee. I’ll admit Louise does most (all) the heavy lifting when it comes to present buying, and they were delighted with a haul including yet more Squishmallows, plenty of arts and crafts stuff that will soon be layering our living room carpet, and a 4-in-1 games table which piqued my interest (it’s fantastic.)
I was not quite so thrilled to be tasked with assembling a robotic panda for Joshua, though.
“Do you want some help, Andy?” Louise asked, fresh from expertly constructing Jacob’s robotic snake.
“NO.”
“I don’t think that piece is the right way around, Andy...”
“YOU DON’T HAVE A CLUE! THE SNAKE WAS EASIER THAN THE PANDA.”
She was correct about the piece, obviously. I glumly accepted my wife’s assistance, went a bit quiet, then theatrically added a double whiskey to my next coffee.
Men are great, aren’t they?
Louise’s mum rustled up a terrific Christmas dinner and, afterwards, the boys chased her new dog around the garden while I kept a loose eye on them, supping a can of marshmallow-infused stout (or something?) All good fun.
We spent an unseasonably balmy Boxing Day at Whitstable, enjoying a relaxing walk along the seafront - with the exception of Joshua fizzing his new Frisbee centimetres past a woman’s head - before heading back up North.
The drive back was particularly gruelling, featuring long traffic jams, a livid man swearing at us on the A1 for reasons never established, and a leaking coffee cup (I later found out a nail was the culprit. How does that happen?) I could have done with the caffeine boost, too; I can confirm that listening to an audiobook of Matilda read, very slowly, by a well-spoken woman is a terrible idea - and frankly dangerous - when driving the length of the country in the post-Christmas slump. Next year = Skrillex.
The Hinterlands, as Lewis nicely puts it, were spent playing table football (only two full-scale family meltdowns), going for drizzly walks, and slumping on the sofa, working our way through a giant Yuletide log. We’re currently watching the Narnia trilogy, which the boys are loving, and it was reassuring to find them double-checking there are no magical lands in the back of Jacob’s wardrobe. A rites-of-passage.
To conclude the festive season, our pals hosted an enjoyable New Year’s Eve party where I tried (far too hard) to be a “Fun Dad” and permitted Joshua to paint my face. The results were terrifying - I looked like something from Stephen King’s imagination - and can confirm I will not be doing this again. We were back home at 9 p.m., and, showing my age, I was in bed with a camomile tea an hour later. I genuinely can’t remember the last time I made the opening credits of Jools Holland.
It was smugly satisfying to wake up fresh on New Year’s Day, but the downside was having absolutely no interest in doing dry January/becoming a new man, and I’ve been drinking beer and grazing consistently since then, hence the grim reality of going back to work being magnified.
Onwards and upwards, though. The health kick starts tomorrow.
Just need to finish off these Lindt chocolates.
Thanks for reading! Hope you had a fantastic Christmas and NY!
It’s good to be back. Like everyone else, it’s been a hectic few weeks so I’ve had very little time to write anything. I’m hoping I can now get back into my tried-and-tested routine of scrabbling out a few words on the train/my lunchbreak etc.
Did you enjoy the festive period? Glad it’s over?
How are you with the first week in January? Positive like me?
Ever been at a 70th birthday party that featured hallucinogenic drugs?
This was laugh out loud for me 🤣. Well written Andy.
I am from the north west but live in London. A few years ago we went to a wedding in Kent. The groom was my husband’s Uni friend and I didn’t know him or his crowd at all. Some of the guests were talking about going to Leeds castle the day after the wedding. I thought they bloody bonkers and told my husband they could count us out and we shifted quickly the next morning and drove back to London. I swear it was years before I found out that Leeds castle is not actually in Leeds. I thought they looked at me funny when I told them there was no chance I was going all that way a day after a wedding!
Great stuff, Andy! Happy New Year.
I love how we collectively decide to stage the most ridiculous scenarios for our kids in the name of Christmas magic, powered by booze and cheese. :D I remember, many years ago, it actually snowed on Christmas Eve so, obviously, I decided to create reindeer hoof-prints on the front lawn. I couldn't wait to see their little faces when they saw them in the morning.
The thing is, it wasn't going to be as mind-blowing a sight if the lawn was also covered in my footprints. So, I fashioned a long poking device using walking sticks and umbrellas, and there we were, at midnight. Me, leaning as far out over the lawn as possible, poking artful and scientifically-accurate hoof-prints into the snow, whisper-yelling instructions to my husband who stood on the doorstep and hung onto my free hand to stop me falling. My Dad hung onto him to stop him toppling forward. It was almost certainly the world's first human-reindeer-hoof-print-making-chain. It took 90 minutes, and I was thrilled with the results. The kids got up about 3.5 hours later. Amid the excited gasps as they entered the lounge, I drew their attention to the sight out the window.
"Huh," they said, and ran back to their gifts. Within about eight minutes, they had no recollection of it whatsoever. ;D