It is the last Friday before Christmas, which in these parts mean it’s ‘Mad Friday’! And, as I meet a friend for festive drinks, the city centre is certainly starting to liven up.
In the steamy Christmas Market cabins, glasses of Gluhwein and tankards of beer lubricate the larynxes for many a rowdy rendition of ‘Last Christmas, I gave you my heart…‘ and ‘… the boys of the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay...’. Other bars are equally a-buzz of business and many shops are cashing in on a flurry of late night shoppers.
But then we turn a corner…into Manchester’s St John’s Gardens on Lower Byrom Street.
All is suddenly calm, gentle classical music floats in the air and a magical sight lies before us. A sea of illuminated roses, most white and some blue, cluster together and cover the gardens in every direction. We appear to have stumbled across somewhere very special; it is just stunning and completely stops us in our tracks.
What is this place?
We learn that it is The Christie Charity Garden of Hope, a beautiful immersive light installation made up of hundreds of pre-lit white roses — each one displaying a message of love and hope dedicated to someone special.
Its aim is to raise vital funds for The Christie Charity, supporting their lifesaving and life-changing work for people affected by cancer and, what a beautiful way to do this, creating a collective tribute of light and love to brighten the festive season. We take a while to wander, reflect and, for now, be thankful.
As we leave this perfect space, it is quickly back into the hurly burly of Mad Friday and I enjoy this too! But the peace and beauty of the Garden of Hope, that stays with me long after our final drink is poured and a last chorus of ‘Fairy Tale of New York‘ is sung…..
What a top treat; an afternoon of cocktails, cream tea and too much red wine with my bestie…this was just what the doctor ordered!
Okay, well probably not the first piece of advice any responsible medical professional would give but, nonetheless this was very much needed. Let me elaborate…
I currently find myself juggling one full time job and three side-hustles. It’s a long story of navigating a new-ish world of work, after steadier school jobs for 30+ years, saying ‘yes‘ to too many offers and in such a higgledy-piggledy order that I am in gainful employ six days a week. I really love most of it …but six days is relentless.
Mix in some festive concerts, which I’ve sandwiched into the few gaps on my calendar and it is safe to say that a week out from Christmas, I am done!
So, I book an afternoon off, call my bestie to arrange our annual ‘cream tea’ and set out to let my hair down and forget about responsibilities for a few hours. And it is fabulous: incredible cocktails, sumptuous red wine and the sort of terrific conversations you can only have with a pal whose known you for 5 decades and is every bit as tipsy as your are.
A marvellous re-charge of the batteries and the perfect curtain raiser to the holidays. I now feel fully in the mood for seasonal frivolities. So, as afternoon melts into evening, join us in a final toast to friendship, to festivities and to finding your way in new jobs and challenges ….
Sitting with a coffee and one, of many, left over mini-mince pies, it seems the perfect moment to look back at the festive break…
Once all my kids are safely home, despite load upon load of dirty washing and a speeding ticket, courtesy of the variable-speed-lottery of the M5, it ffeels as if Christmas has begun. It means help with the food shop, extra hands for decorations, time-honoured cheesy festive films and a house full of laughter and companionship again.
And so to the ‘big day’ itself. Much is familiar: guests, food, crackers, games and fizz.
But there are a few new twists. The hot water packs in on Christmas Eve, so it is cold showers for the hard-core (and a bit of festive grime for the rest) throughout the social season.
Most significant of all, there is an extra pair of hands in the kitchen… the ill-fated Smallboy. Buoyed by the success of some roast potatoes he’d served up for pals at Uni, he begged to join the Christmas cooking crew. But scarcely had we added his name to the spreadsheet … oh yes, you heard me right, I never do the Xmas dinner without microsoft excel … than calamity starts to dog his every culinary move. Half of our usual crispy spuds became an impromptu mash… and the first tray of turkey had to be hurriedly scooped from the floor, whilst we distracted guests with crackers and paper hats.
I also branch out with my desserts, introducing after -dinner-coffee with a mini mince pie – Ta da! In my head, ‘ultra-chic’. In reality, it goes down about as well as last year’s ‘signature cocktails’ … not a single blinkin’ taker! And hence why, with January on the horizon, I am still munching my way through several boxes of the darned festive pastries!
With the cooking done and the board games exhausted we sink happily down to watch the ‘Gavin and Stacey Christmas Special‘ and my oh my it does no disappoint. I mean. if you were not misty eyed as Mick stands up at the wedding ceremony and up on your feet cheering as the entire cast race to Portsmouth,,, quite frankly, what is wrong with you?
And so the sun sets on another spell of festive cheer. Smith and Ness are married, me and my kids have been re-united. For now, at least, all is well with the world…
Woohoo everyone; two days until the ‘Big Day’ and what a frenzied and frantic December it has been! Three cheers to Smallboy and his French Horn, who have broken every family record for the number of Christmas concerts a person can appear but, this is the first moment of quiet I’ve found for a blog post and, before it is too late, I must write something about my Advent Calendar…
Ooh yes, just look at the jammy treats hiding behind the doors of my Christmas count-down creation!
Now; I have to confess that I’ve previously scorned the trend for lavish Advent Calendars. And spending hundreds, sometimes thousands of pounds on luxury epics from Fortnum and Mason, Liberty or Dior still seems like insanity itself and the preserve of those with ‘more money than sense’. But, speaking of preserves….
This year, my daughter sends me the ‘Bonne Maman‘ calendar and … it is fantastic! Every morning a little jar that is so delicious I find five minutes, in my usually strict no-breakfast dash for work, to indulge in a hot buttered crumpet topped with a dash of the latest jam. Strawberry, apricot, caramel, blackcurrant; it is all utterly scrumptious.
So amidst the relentlessly busy days and nights of December, I have my breakfast moments to savour. Goodness gracious, those jams are so tasty I actually look forward to getting up on the dark and chilly mornings. I also discover that racing off to work with some food in my stomach really does makes the day feel a lot better!
But if I thought the Bonne Maman bonanza couldn’t get any better, Small boy, in a creative moment of pure genius, spots that the empty jars are the perfect size for a shot of Baby Guinnes. It is a cocktail of Christmassy delight and, as my offspring all return for the Yuletide holidays, proves to be a universal household hit!
Well, this settles any dispute for me; his year I’ve definitely made it through December with the best Advent Calendar in the world!
And so, this evening, I raise a mini-jam jar of coffee liqueur and Baileys, to one and all. Whatever your festive holidays look like this year, try to find five minutes for yourself in each day, appreciate the gifts from those who care about you, go with the flow of any teenage ‘good ideas‘ and … enjoy!
Amidst the pre-Christmas bustle, a few hours out in the tranqility of the nearby RHS gardens is a lovely change of pace…
This oasis of woodland, lakes and gardens is actually on my doorstep so, ‘how have I not been before?‘ Perhaps it is not only pre-Christmas weeks that get clogged up with busyness and stress?
Take this Autumn term for example; such a demanding one for me! High levels of absenteeism at work have resulted in everyone else’s workload becoming … quite frankly overwhelming. I have also had worries about my mum and, like everyone else, about spiralling bills and static wages. The only reason that none of it has kept me awake at night is, I reason,because I am permanently shattered and could fall asleep ‘on a dime.’
So few hours away from: gift wrap, shopping lists, decorations and tannoys blaring out ‘All I want for Christmas …’ for a peaceful stroll through the winter gardens is ideal. Our countryside and green places play a pivotal role in the preservation of our wildlife and ecosystem but there is also evidence that they also promote a sense of wellbeing for humans too. Plants have a long history of association with medicines and healing. Furthermore, in our modern world, we also increasingly acknowledge that gardens and green spaces are also associated with better social and mental health. To quote British physician Sir Muir Gray,
“…everyone needs a ‘Natural Health Service’ as well as a National Health Service.”
Well the visit certainly puts a smile on my face. Great company; easy chat and lots of laughter. Plus natural beauty and nature’s might and elegance to soothe the spirits and clear the troubled mind. I can also give a shout out for the scones in the cafe, which I polish off enthusiastically with my usual crazed- calorie trio of cream, jam…and butter! Revived and refreshed, I am ready again for last-minute gifts, the great Christmas Dinner spreadsheet and, yes, even Mariah…
All in all, I have had a lovely first week of holidays. Roll on yuletide festivities and week 2…
Erst it may well be a popular trendy restaurant in the Ancoats area of Manchester, but it is also the German word for ‘first’ and, on the first day of my Christmas holiday, it is a wonderful place to be taken for lunch. It’s also another beginning for me…I am out on a ‘first date’…eek!
So, to the restaurant!
The food is ‘small plates designed for sharing’ and it is delicious. Each individual dish is a treat but put them together and, oh my goodness, it is a taste sensation. We need a bit of help and the waitress is fantastic, advising of number of plates and recommending the ‘spectacular’ walnut flat bread, which is divine. To wash it all down, we choose a bottle of vin naturel and 1 o’ clock quickly becomes 2 o’clock and then 3. Fabulous company and fabulous ambience. The stresses and strains of a busy term and the worries of family life just melt away and I open the door to holiday, relaxation and the chance to have some fun.
Indeed; such as good time is had that we decide to move onto a bar …which gets a little messier with some very strong cocktails. ‘Galway girl‘, a potent mix of Limoncello and prosecco probably, is my downfall. But hey -ho… holidays are here! Even a hard working single parent is allowed to let her hair down every now and again?
I certainly come back to earth with a bump at the tram stop home where, with unbelievable timing, I run into Small Boy with not one, not two but about ten of his friends, all heading out for the night. He tells me later that I was unmistakably merry but seems to find it all quite funny.
Next morning, I find that in my cocktail-confused state, I have tapped in and out with so many different cards on the metro that my journey has proved quite a pricey one! I contact TfGM pleading ‘ an honest is utterly stupid mistake‘ and wait to see if they show mercy and refund some of my payments!
Even this aside, I certainly feel ready for the holidays with work most definitely off the agenda for a couple of weeks. As for my date; well it’s early days and I rarely share romantically on my blog … but could this be the ‘erst of many’?
“Shhh! I hardly dare say it aloud, but I think I have just recorded my first negative covid test for … what feels like an age!”
A week of isolation, that is all it has been but it has taken its toll and I am going a little bit stir crazy! Why yes, we still have our board games, but we have played them to death. Our favourite was Trivial Pursuits, gloriously updated from the original 1980s version, so that my Gen Z offspring are no longer left puzzling over the ‘Male star of Man about the House in 1974′, but have questions that they can actually answer. Nonetheless, we have now circumnavigated the board so many times that we are struggling to find a card that hasn’t been used: yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that! Want to know the second largest German city by both area and population? I’m your girl!
Mealtimes too provide little variation, as the national season of leftovers collides with our dwindling supply of groceries. A once very fine Christmas dinner attempts a plucky revival each evening but progressively loses a little bit of shine each time, as we run down the veggies and scrape around the freezer digging out oven chips and bits of quorn to make up the nutritional numbers!
Prom-dress daughter is now also positive and, in consequence, when we do gather as a quartet to watch a new festive movie, we shiver in communal harmony with the lounge window wide open for ventilation and clinging to hot drinks for warmth!
Do I need to get out here? Well let’s just say that if you offered me a quarrelsome festive family walk right here and now, with everyone trudging gloomily along in the mud looking venomous and despondent … I’d bite your hand off!
And so it is that this afternoon’s negative test almost has me dancing with joy! I still need a second to secure my ticket to freedom, so I restrict my celebrations to breaking out of my pyjamas, for the first time in 8 days, and donning enough clothing to hit the garden and rake up some wet leave.
‘Woohoo – living the dream!‘
Of course I am very grateful that we are both OK … but please… finger, toes and everything crossed here for only one pink line on the lateral flow tomorrow….
Day three of the long awaited Christmas holiday and things are not exactly going to plan…
Ho ho ho! Did I dare to think that Christmas 2021 was going to mark a return to more festive familiarity; with the extended family WhatsApp whirring into December discussions about a month ago? Alas, no sooner have I collected both Uni girls from the station; handed round the glasses of seasonal Baileys and unveiled our new Christmas board games than…
I am floored on Saturday by a revolting attack of vomiting and severe headaches. Generally, there are few low level ailments that stop me; as a single parent of the past decade I’ve learned that being ‘under the weather’, duvet days and most variations flu/common cold/fever etc, are simply not a viable option for the only adult in the house and, thanks to my amazing allies, Anadin Extra and Lemsip Max, I’ve trundled on. But this; well I can hardly raise my head from the pillow! At 7pm, I attempt to prop myself on the sofa for the long anticipated ‘Strictly‘ final but, before the first ‘9’ paddle (Oh Craig; why not a 10?) appears on the screen, I have crawled back into bed to toss, turn and … well throw-up for the rest of the night until…
Sunday and “Ding dong merrily on high!” the sickness finally stops. I summon the energy to take and keep down a painkiller and my headache dulls to blissfully acceptable levels. Festivities are surely back on track! My eldest and I head into town, indulge in yuletide gingerbread lattes, find a few late gifts and splurge my Tesco ClubCard triumphantly on copious amounts of food and drink for the Christmas Day dinner. My mum comes over and the five of us have a hilarious evening of board games and mince pies. I do choose to wear a face mask, explaining, “I really don’t want anyone catching this disgusting sickness bug”, but that measure aside, it is holiday business as usual! In suitably high spirits, we all agree meet-up plans for the week ahead and turn in for what I hope will be a better night’s sleep.
But it is not great, because an irritating cough has set in and I am wide awake even before the 6am work text, ‘Remember to take your lateral flow test‘ pings onto the screen. Within seconds, the test goes a bright-pink, determinedly double-lined, impossible-to-miss … positive.
“Bloomin’ covid !”
Monday; very much the ‘Bleak Mid-Winter’! I drive to some god-forsaken testing centre where a disinterested youth, briefly looks up from his phone screen to pass me a PCR kit and nod his head towards a make-shift booth. Like some irrelevant miscreant, I skulk home to await my fate.
Let me be clear… I am not even remotely close to being ill any more, at worst I cough occasionally and feel mildly spaced out. Nonetheless, ‘I have covid!’ Moreover, I am an important key worker, who has ploughed through 2 years of disruption and chaos without a single day off and ‘I have covid!’ Even if that tester was completely unimpressed, can I not be allowed centre of attention status in my own home? And so, I trounce around the house like some spoiled brat, demanding star treatment from a bewildered trio of teens who do their best but, quite honestly, could carry me around in a sedan chair and serve my meals on a silver platter and I’d still find something to criticise. By the time I stomp off to bed on Monday evening, no-one is speaking to me and… I am confident that none of you would blame them…
Tuesday, brings: the PCR confirmation and me to my senses; well ‘Hark the blessed Angels sing!‘
I reorganise ‘Christmas mum-plans‘ with my brothers, apologise to… everyone in the house and start thinking instead about how to make holidays fun from the confines of my four walls. No traditional family film outing, but endless outstandingly awful, cheesy Christmas movie-originals on Netflix. At some point we may crack and turn out attention to worthy, unwatched classics, Citizen Kane; Breakfast at Tiffanys, Casablanca… but for now it is, unashamedly, the Christmas Princetrilogy! No lunches out, but at the touch of a button, lunches delivered in. No rushing around to perfect table trimmings or stocking-filler gifts, but … loads of time together, three cheers and Fa la la la la for my board games and …. a very welcome change of pace.
I am super-lucky, I know, to have such a mild dose. Be it the variance of Omicron, or my recent booster or just a fortunate roll of the dice, I am very grateful that I am not poorly, as so many friends and work colleagues have been with this wretched virus. And I will be glad to get out! When one of my brothers sends news of the reduction in isolation time to 7 days, I almost break the land-speed record to dig my box of LFTs out from under the bed and cross everything for a negative test (no joy yet alas!) But until I get my ticket to freedom, I will concede that sitting out the frenzy of the pre-Christmas prep has certain advantages. I may have to live without bread sauce on the 25th and have frozen peas instead of parsnips… but quite frankly I am struggling to remember why that was ever important ….
At 6am I hear the news that Liberal Democrat candidate Helen Morgan, has won the safe blue seat of North Shropshire, overturning a Conservative majority of 23 thousand votes and unseating the Tories from a seat they have represented for 200 years. And suddenly a week that was feeling distinctly low on festive cheer looks a lot brighter…
“A major political earthquake…”, gasp the media commentators, as I scrabble frantically for my phone in the dark bedroom and start scrolling through Twitter like a lunatic. What grabs my attention here, however, is not the interviews with eloquent analysts nor the well-versed soundbites from party leaders but a clip of local voters explaining their reasons for switching life-long allegiances away from their usual party of choice. And they outline, with crystal clarity, basic honest values in their answers. Even in the middle of a global pandemic, or maybe because of it, they uniformly reject and refuse to accept any excuses for: sleaze, lies, double standards and lack of care for their community.
And they make me cry….
Yes, I’ll admit that they make me feel pretty damned patriotic and proud to be British. For we may have endured months of neglect, disregard for all that we hold dear and the mismanagement of our precious public services. In recent weeks we may have felt despair, anger and fury at the battery of dismal, derisory stories from our arrogantly self-entitled Westminster government but that none of that can dismantle our values as a society.
No; today the great British people, as they showed throughout the darkest of Lockdown days and the toughest of times for our poorest families, remain a caring and principled people who do not want to live in the world of our current Prime Minister, a man described by former attorney general Dominic Grieve as a “vacuum of integrity”. And, possibly the greatest of all our British values, democracy, means that they have the power to do something about it. Did the people of North Shropshire speak for us all? They certainly spoke for me; to echo the words of their new MP Helen Morgan
“Your amazing efforts have delivered a gift of hope to our country just in time for Christmas“
And hope is a wonderful tonic. Hope means it is worth teaching your kids about right and wrong; fairness and justice. Hope means it is worth standing by your beliefs and trying to make your own corner of the world a better place! Hope means that community and family, care and kindness all do matter.
And so, as I hop into the car for work, I am feeling fantastic and full of seasonal cheer. In fact I raise a cheer to every little thing that is or has been good about the last 7 days!
Went to a Christmas concert featuring Small Boy and the local Youth Orchestra,
“Hooray!”
Met up with one of my besties for a Christmas Cream tea with wine and Baileys,
“Hooray!”
Today I break up for the Christmas holidays,
“Hooray!”
This evening, both girls are arriving home for Christmas.
“Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!”
Roll on Christmas and thank you good people of North Shropshire, important as Omicron covid jabs may be, you have been the boost that I’ve needed this week ….
Why, I hardly dare utter the phrase! But in a week when stories of illegal 2020 lockdown parties in Downing Street rock central government to its very core, our work team also head out, though in our case is actually is, for our first festive celebration together in 2 long years. Our work meal popped onto the calendar last weekend; I’m blogging now because it took me this long to recovery from a rather drink fuelled evening… that ended up in The Whip and Kitten…
So how does it feel to be out on a work event after all this time? Well firstly, fellow single parents, getting out of the house is still as much of a challenge as ever. I somehow manage to wash my hair, dust down my frock and root out a bit of lippy, whilst face-timing one daughter about some University issue, picking Small boy up from Youth Orchestra and hearing about my mum’s entire week as she arrives to take my son off for the night. ‘Is it really worth the effort?‘, I wonder, looking longingly at the comfy couch and thinking how much easier it would be just to collapse and turn on the TV.
Nonetheless, by 7:30 pm I am ready and, in my eyes every bit as magical as a horse and carriage, one of my colleagues draws up to give me a lift in their Ford Galaxy. And from this point forward, the trappings, the grind and the relentless routine of parenthood are very much cast aside. Beaming at her fellow passengers, another workmate fishes some pink cans out of a large bag,
“Gin and Tonic anyone?“
It heralds the start of a lovely, and yes very merry, evening. Food and chat, drinks and even belly dancing for one of the group! And talk is of life and love and Christmas; all of which makes a fantastic change. The grimness of work throughout a global pandemic, has robbed us, in so many ways, of the chance to relax with workmates, to unwind and converse about things outside of the job, with its stresses and sometimes heartbreaking strains. I couldn’t be more thankful that I resisted the temptation of my couch and made the effort to come out, because socialising is fun, and, as the old adage tells us, ‘laughter is the best medicine’ for those times when we are feeling jaded, sad and blue.
Does that explain how we end up at The Whip and Kitten? It is certainly an eye-catching, with a-hint-of-sauciness name! Can I confess that I cannot recall how it happens, what the hour is, nor who is still left as we are shown to a table in the dimly lit establishment.
“Is it a burlesque place?” someone whispers in my ear.
Having since checked out their website, I think that yes, occasionally, they do invite various dance acts to perform in the venue, but also musicians and comedians. In essence, and certainly on our evening, it is a bar, I can assure you that the cocktails are delicious and hope I shall return soon.
I suppose that, however, will depend on new variants and Boris … I fear they may prove a more lethal concoction than my final Manhattan…
Smashing Single Parenthood 