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In the face of relentless screen time and a constantly entertained brain this blog is cry out for boredom, wrapped up as an ode to Christmas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m completely obsessed with Christmas. There\u2019s so very little I don\u2019t adore about this most special and silliest of silly seasons. My love extends from family traditions – Carols from King\u2019s and waiting to eat my first mince pie only when I\u2019m decorating the tree – to the cheesiest festive nonsense. Think awfully brilliant Christmas songs (yes to Wham!, Mariah and even Wizzard), putting festive decorations and lights in every corner of the house and wearing a Christmas jumper at every opportunity. From the moment Halloween is done and dusted (I\u2019m living in America at the moment, so\u00a0hell yes<\/em>\u00a0I\u2019m embracing their holidays to the max), I\u2019m thinking about Christmas. I get a free pass to not think about Thanksgiving because… well it\u2019s obvious, isn\u2019t it?!<\/p>\n\n\n\n I know not everyone is a fan of the festive silly season. Christmas is so very personal. Our perception of the Christmas is shaped by our memories and family situation. I\u2019m not religious in the slightest, but I do have an appreciation for the spirituality of the season too. The pagan roots of Christmas are well known, and they are some of my most loved elements of it. Lighting up the long, dark nights of midwinter with twinkling lights and glowing candles. Watching the sun come up after the longest night for the winter solstice at Stonehenge. Feasts to celebrate reaching the milestone of midwinter and a chance to gather all your favourite people together in one place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When the New Year finally arrives, I refuse to take my decorations down until I\u2019m forced to, either by a cross husband or the heaps of pine needles that start to appear under the tree. And, it turns out, by the extremely American concept of a homeowners association. It turns out they can send you letters about (and legally enforce) rules about where you keep your bins, the colour of your fence and mailbox, whether you need to power wash your plastic house and when it\u2019s time for the Christmas decs to come down. Oh and you can’t keep chickens, which the springer spaniels are thrilled about. Land of the free, indeed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n But putting all silliness to one side, I think one of my favourite things about Christmas is that it gives me the chance to get bored. I know for some people with big families that’s not the case, but bear with me here… I struggle to relax; my husband will attest to my inability to sit through a longish film without fidgeting. Or my habit of writing down notes on scraps of paper to remember ideas for articles when I shouldn’t be thinking about work at all. But Christmas mandates relaxing. I read in front of the fire for hours. I get a sketchbook and paint and create some very forgettable art. I remember about my camera and fetch it from where it\u2019s been gathering dust since the last American road trip or there\u2019s-a-possum-in-the-garden-James-I-must-get-a-pic day When we lived nearer family, Christmas saw me resisting the organised fun of board games and charades but enjoying them immensely when I caved in. There\u2019s no need to check emails, so I forget where my phone is and that means I don\u2019t scroll social media and news sites. I even forget to listen to the Archers, and it\u2019s a treat in January when I have hours of Ambridge-based action to catch up on. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Slowly, eventually, Christmas forces me to give in and be really, really bored. <\/p>\n\n\n\nThe Land of the Free<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
The privilege of being really bored<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
What are phones doing to our brains?<\/h3>\n\n\n\n