Christmas delights

First thing on the list to prepare for Christmas is to take the children to see Santa's grave.

It doesn't go down that well but I expect that there is a genuine sympathy in their tear streaked cheeks for his untimely death so close to what would be the busiest part of his year.

I am not a complete ogre in this regard. I do not of course know where the grave is actually located but merely point vaguely out of the car window at an ominous clump of trees just off the ring road of our town. I imply that it was a terrible and unnecessary accident involving the contravention by the Elves in charge of reindeer transport of a number of fundamental safety rules and good practice. Santa did not stand a chance. Heigh-ho. Life goes on.

Funnily enough that ritual starts my own enthusiasm for the Festive Season. It is my trigger for all things merry and bright at what is otherwise a pretty dismal time of the year what with limited natural daylight hours, cold and harsh weather and the prospect of shelling out a few quid on gifts and gaieties.

I have previously reported the first trimmed up house for this year way back in the early part of November.

This was an exception as most other households have been quite restrained in their decorative and lighting up efforts until at least December the 1st.

The Municipal displays have been officially switched on by some celebrity or dignitary although Local Authority budgetary constraints have, this year, restricted the extravagance to 60 Watt electric light bulb dressed with red and silver tinsel in the main city square.

The shops operated by the large Nationals which dominate the surviving parts of the High Street remain non descript in their efforts.

In my childhood the same streetscape in which local and sole traders operated was a riot of coloured lights and displays. This was down to the community spirit of the local Chamber of Commerce and a commitment by the shop keepers to contribute funds and resources to putting on a great show. This was as much to promote the wares of the shops as a thank you to the townspeople for their custom and patronage over the year.

The conglomerates, chains and franchises have no seasonal budget with any festive spirit of any merit. Any bonhomie is largely down to the staff in their sporting of reindeer antlers, elvish hats, flashing brooches and strands of tinsel about their persons. This they do out of the kindness of their own hearts and sparse personal finances even if it is frowned upon or actually prohibited by distant management.

I recall a story about a parcel delivery depot whose hardworking staff were given a Christmas bonus in the form of a handful, each, of assorted Cadbury's chocolates from a battered tin, itself probably salvaged from an aborted consignment of packages. It may as well have been a kick in the teeth for all of the loyalty and appreciation it conveyed to the workforce.

Those in the retail sector are particularly hard done by. I have just heard that following damage by tidal surge, within three weeks before Christmas, to the retail park premises of a large Care for Mother organisation (who will remain nameless) the staff of around 30 have had their contracts terminated and are out of work with no supplementary pay until the superstore is restored to operational use.

It is the Mother of all decisions. They just do not care after all.

The main driver of Christmas Spirit falls to the private individuals who bedeck their homes with ambitious, and not so, exhibitions of cheer and enthusiasm. I find that the shock expressed by my children of learning of the death of Santa can be alleviated somewhat by a drive around the neighbourhood to see the best and worst of the light and inflatable or neon outlined figure shows.

Neighbours compete ruthlessly in excesses of one-upmanship. Dads and Uncles court injury in ascending ladders, mounting roofs or leaning out of windows to affix the long trails of ice -blue, ice-white or multi-coloured twinklers to bargeboards, soffits and fascias. It can be quite an effort on the basis that some remain in position all year or just hang down forlornly if becoming detached or damaged.

A few philanthropic homeowners invite charitable donations to a gatepost mounted bucket for distribution to a local charity for those passing by and enjoying their efforts. This only really works in a cul de sac where the guilt and shame of voyeurs attempting a three point turn in the hammerhead can produce results in the chink, chink of hard cash in the collection receptacle.

This year has been a bit slower than normal to get going in terms of domestic decorations.

Factors such as recession, high energy costs and bad weather including typhoon and tsunami have been major hindrances.

Sat in my car amongst sobbing, distraught children I have noticed that there has been a definite increase in the practice of the draping of net lights in the trees, shrubs and bushes of front gardens. This is generally confined to the posher areas who have a front garden. This has produced some tasteful natural profiles in upper boughs of mature trees or a dense splurge of colour in smaller concentrations of leylandii or laurel.

If however the net is cast with low levels of care and attention to shape and form there can be some shockingly distracting flashing images and strange configurations. When squinted at through the windscreen these can resemble a large naked female form climbing out of a bath tub, or at least they do to me. It is still the same no matter how many times you drive past slowly and gawp.