The Feast of Leftover
The period between Christmas and New Year is, perhaps, the most orphaned time of year. By which I mean it is perhaps the time of year with the least significance attached to it, it is merely a period that we pass through, on our way to time of resolutions and renewed gym memberships.
This is perhaps because this slack period does not have a name. It is not really Christmas, nor is it New Year.
More probably it is because it has not yet been the work of a memorable piece of fiction. Throughout the year seasons and seconds are celebrated, especially so at this time of the year, where the simple wave of a remote control could summon any of the three versions of ‘A Christmas Carol’ playing, leaving you to settle on Alistair Sym, Patrick Stewart or muppets as your Dickens vehicle of choice. Myself, I favour Bill Murray’s outstanding performance in ‘Scrooged’.
New Year finds favour with filmmakers, featuring prominently in everything from ‘Radio Days’ to ‘When Harry met Sally’.
Or maybe it’s just the mood. Everyone is bucolic and possibly melancholic. Or maybe they are back at work and so sullen. It’s been days now since anyone had anything approaching a normal meal, featuring vegetables, and one is usually still in the process of trying to get through the Christmas booze so that one can be temptation-free come New Year and the inevitable detox.
Hence, I have decided to celebrate this time of year, which I christen The Feast of Leftover.
There are many reasons to be cheery during this period. The first is that cheeriness is not mandatory. The second is that one can lie on the sofa with one hand stirring a tin of Quality Street in the hope that there may be a toffee left among the wrappers, for hours, and not have this used as evidence in a speculative diagnosis of depression. The same goes for still sporting pyjamas and a dressing gown until well after lunch. Which brings us on to booze. It is acceptable, at this time of the year, to have a glass of port, or two, with a cheeky slice of fruit cake. On very few other occasions does such behaviour constitute ‘lunch’ but, on this occasion, one can get away with it.
Not that it is all sloth and inebriation. There are presents to be enjoyed, books to be read, high scores to be racked up and weapons and car upgrades to be unlocked.
Best of all, there is the Feast itself. If one is lucky enough to have surplus food one should also realise that it is a sin to throw away food. That is why this time of year features an unusually varied diet, as one seeks to use up all the food in the fridge before ‘normality’ returns. And it’s Christmas food too, leading one to question the wisdom of ordering so many picked walnuts. By which I mean any.
If you are excited by the prospect of having a cheese board for dinner, then this is the time of year to go for it.
The Feast of Leftover is also celebrated in our shops. This is the time of year to purchase your Christmas decorations and cards (tip: put them somewhere handy, not somewhere ‘safe’, so when you come to look for them in eleven months, there’s a chance you’ll actually be able to find the bloody things and not have to buy more), retail Christmas leftovers on sale at bargain prices or, actually, prices more suitable for what is a bit of plastic dipped in glitter. Tempting this year were the small artificial Christmas trees on sale for a couple of quid at a DIY store. I wanted to buy loads, take them home, set them up and then stomp through them pretending to be a giant, or recreate the Battle of Endor.
However you choose to celebrate this time of the year, be it with cheese, pickled walnuts or pickling your liver, may I wish you a very happy Feast of Leftover.
Now, having just seen a gap in the greetings card market, I’m off to fetch the card and crayons.
This is perhaps because this slack period does not have a name. It is not really Christmas, nor is it New Year.
More probably it is because it has not yet been the work of a memorable piece of fiction. Throughout the year seasons and seconds are celebrated, especially so at this time of the year, where the simple wave of a remote control could summon any of the three versions of ‘A Christmas Carol’ playing, leaving you to settle on Alistair Sym, Patrick Stewart or muppets as your Dickens vehicle of choice. Myself, I favour Bill Murray’s outstanding performance in ‘Scrooged’.
New Year finds favour with filmmakers, featuring prominently in everything from ‘Radio Days’ to ‘When Harry met Sally’.
Or maybe it’s just the mood. Everyone is bucolic and possibly melancholic. Or maybe they are back at work and so sullen. It’s been days now since anyone had anything approaching a normal meal, featuring vegetables, and one is usually still in the process of trying to get through the Christmas booze so that one can be temptation-free come New Year and the inevitable detox.
Hence, I have decided to celebrate this time of year, which I christen The Feast of Leftover.
There are many reasons to be cheery during this period. The first is that cheeriness is not mandatory. The second is that one can lie on the sofa with one hand stirring a tin of Quality Street in the hope that there may be a toffee left among the wrappers, for hours, and not have this used as evidence in a speculative diagnosis of depression. The same goes for still sporting pyjamas and a dressing gown until well after lunch. Which brings us on to booze. It is acceptable, at this time of the year, to have a glass of port, or two, with a cheeky slice of fruit cake. On very few other occasions does such behaviour constitute ‘lunch’ but, on this occasion, one can get away with it.
Not that it is all sloth and inebriation. There are presents to be enjoyed, books to be read, high scores to be racked up and weapons and car upgrades to be unlocked.
Best of all, there is the Feast itself. If one is lucky enough to have surplus food one should also realise that it is a sin to throw away food. That is why this time of year features an unusually varied diet, as one seeks to use up all the food in the fridge before ‘normality’ returns. And it’s Christmas food too, leading one to question the wisdom of ordering so many picked walnuts. By which I mean any.
If you are excited by the prospect of having a cheese board for dinner, then this is the time of year to go for it.
The Feast of Leftover is also celebrated in our shops. This is the time of year to purchase your Christmas decorations and cards (tip: put them somewhere handy, not somewhere ‘safe’, so when you come to look for them in eleven months, there’s a chance you’ll actually be able to find the bloody things and not have to buy more), retail Christmas leftovers on sale at bargain prices or, actually, prices more suitable for what is a bit of plastic dipped in glitter. Tempting this year were the small artificial Christmas trees on sale for a couple of quid at a DIY store. I wanted to buy loads, take them home, set them up and then stomp through them pretending to be a giant, or recreate the Battle of Endor.
However you choose to celebrate this time of the year, be it with cheese, pickled walnuts or pickling your liver, may I wish you a very happy Feast of Leftover.
Now, having just seen a gap in the greetings card market, I’m off to fetch the card and crayons.
Labels: bank holidays, Christmas, DIY, Feast of Leftover, New Year, Reading
4 Comments:
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year...belated, of course...
I haven't had an alcoholic beverage in about 44 hours and I'm pretty sure I'm still drunk...
but, I am giving it all up for awhile in order to lose 20 pounds (this year!) and at the very least, lower my tolerance which, at this point, has become about 4 bottles of wine thanks to the number of carbohydrates I have consumed.
Sobriety became necessary when I woke up to my diabetic cat holding a mirror under my nose to make sure I was just passed out. I'm pretty sure he offered me some of his insulin as well.
And a Happy New Year to you! Hope you had a marvellous Christmas (a tolerance of 4 bottles of wine based on carb intake would indicate yes, yes you did!).
Waking up to find a cat perched on one must be a disquieting experience – I imagine going bolt upright and yelling is not a reaction conducive to cat calming.
Good luck with the abstinence. The time to try it is of course in the run up to Christmas, when the bars are full of civilian drinkers who only go out once a year and who wait until they are at the bar before first making up their mind and then sending runners back to the table the rest of their friends are at.
You'll be happy to know that I've come up with a solution for the whole "no more drinking" thing. You see, today is my birthday so it is usual that I make several New Year's resolutions that usually involve me cutting out anything that I enjoy and then i find myself doing them 5 days later because "it's my birthday darnit!"....
So, instead my compromise came quite easily to me this evening as I sat with my friends, sipping on my vodka martini....my compromise was not actually going to be a compromise at all.
you see, the proportion to which I desired being in my pajamas to being with my friends trying to hold in my stomach while downing vodka and stuffing my face with chocolate was actually in favor of the former. And, even though we went to see "Young Adult" beforehand which may have slightly influenced me, I think as long as I do certain things in secret (ie, those involving chocolate or vodka), it's like I'm not even doing them at all. No witnesses, then it didn't happen. Right?
So, already 33 is looking to be the year where I start making rational decisions.
Belated happy birthday - sounds like 33 is going to be your year!
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