Tinsel, bauble, stocking, statistics, analysis, word count, bauble. Would you believe me if I told you that, prior to carefully picking out a wonderfully symmetrical and seasonally scented Christmas tree, that it stood at the back of my sitting room undecorated for an entire week?
It is ironic, as I am usually the first one to chastise others for not getting their festive act together as soon as December arrives. But alas, there the tree stood, naked and bare, seeming to mock me with an imaginary wagging of its branched fingers – for not one day, or two, but a shameful seven before even a single fairy light was placed upon its frame.
The reasoning behind my reprehensible lack of attention given to this year’s Christmas tree has been the all-encompassing nature of being a final-year student. Previous December exam periods, however stressful, somehow always allowed me sufficient space to absorb the festive cheer and devote time to the usual traditions. Upon reflection, I think I merely made sure to allow myself the time to enjoy such things as decorating and shopping outings, in attempts to prioritise what matters most (mulled wine and Taylor Swift’s “Christmas Tree Farm”, obviously).
However, even my usually merry self has had to concede to the undeniable importance of my final-year exams and dissertation. Any chunk of time not dedicated to researching the conflict in Northern Ireland and revising theories of labour-market discrimination have left a profound sense of guilt hanging from my shoulders. The symbol of my hard work being the poor, unclothed Christmas tree in the sitting room corner.
The reasoning behind my reprehensible lack of attention given to this year’s Christmas tree has been the all-encompassing nature of being a final-year student
What didn’t help this situation was the fact that my family’s Christmas decorations are stored in the tiniest of crawl spaces in our attic room which, conveniently for everyone else, only I can fit through. Years of being fussy about the precise placements of each decoration has also landed me with the sole responsibility of putting them up.
While I would usually devote an entire day to bending into contortionist-like shapes to haul out box after box before taking numerous trips to transport them all down two flights of stairs, this year saw me take a different approach. Once or twice a day, I would reluctantly pull out a single box and bring it to the sitting room on my way downstairs. Ever so gradually, the mountain of Christmas cushions, figurines, etc. packed into various boxes began to overflow the dining table.
It took a long seven days for this heap to gently disperse and for the place to look less utterly disastrous. Did reaching the end of this unnecessarily long decoration job leave me with a sense of achievement? Not particularly. Momentary relief, maybe, to have ticked one more effort-filled job off the list that drew my attention away from college work. The festive season has never felt so riveting.
Well thought out presents are my forte, but this year may just mark the Christmas that my gift-giving skills are relegated to ‘average’
Of course, a primary purpose of the Christmas tree is to house the gifts under its leafy abode, which drew attention to the next bane of my season – presents. As you might have assumed at this point, not a shadow of my thought had thus far brushed over the topic.
This is highly unlike me, as someone who takes a great amount of pride in their gift-giving skills. Well thought out, witty and “just what someone needs” presents are my forte, sometimes made that extra bit special with a homemade flair and always exquisitely wrapped. This year may just have to mark the Christmas that my gift-giving skills are relegated to “average”. I hope no one is expecting any hand-crafted gems or ordered-months-in-advance gadgets. They’ll be lucky if I spell their name right on the tag, given the scrambled nature of my brain.
I have even had to endure chastisement from my fellow coworkers in my part-time job for failing to wear a Christmas jumper to my shifts. My only answer being that I don’t have one and, no, I haven’t had time to get one. Has my transition to Grinch come full circle?
I carry little doubt that a large cohort of students are sharing a similarly sub-par Christmas period. Leaving workloads aside, the recently announced restrictions predict grim prospects for the month of January. Our month of freedom will be significantly dampened by the lack of opportunities to socialise and enjoy the fulfilment of being immersed in art and culture. Some of us may even be staring at a job loss as a result.
This likely won’t be my last unusually disorganised Christmas
So, however unextraordinary and haphazard my Christmas preparations have been, it is arguably one of the easiest years for anyone to slip into a haze of restlessness. While I should perhaps be rejoicing that the reduction in pub opening times will undoubtedly have a positive impact on my dissertation, I must admit that I would still rather be hearing “Fairytale of New York” played far too often through pub speakers while sipping on over-priced pints every now and then.
But, this likely won’t be my last unusually disorganised Christmas and I’m sure for many, it isn’t their first. Still, my Christmas tree turned out wonderfully ornamented and I have in fact gotten all my presents together (still exquisitely wrapped, if nothing else). I shall attempt to apply this logic to the madness of coming to the end of my college degree, in the faith that it will all come together, eventually.
