Last Christmas (or The Ghost of Christmas Future)

If the Ghost of Christmas Future had rocked up in 1984 and shown me the Christmas of 2024 I’d have been absolutely horrified. I’d be stood there, clutching my 1985 Eagle annual with a face of sheer jaw-dropping disbelief. 

Note: That’s not a typo. Annuals are always dated with the subsequent year.

“Look at the state of this guy’s house. No tree, no decorations, no Christmas music, no advent calendar, no cards hanging on a bit of string? This can’t be my future!? What the **** happened? The juxtaposition is insane!”

I didn’t swear as a child, but added that for dramatic effect. Also, I didn’t use words like “juxtaposition”. Not until I was at least 11 or 12 anyway.

The Ghost of Christmas Future could have also shown me the Star Wars prequels, the live-action Transformers films, or told me Eagle comic folded in 1994 and I’d have been equally devastated. 

Likewise, if he set fire to my "Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport" record, or told me to stop singing "Another Rock and Roll Christmas" while ripping up my letter to Jim'll Fix It.

My Christmases of the 80s and 90s can only be described as “magical” and they will live with me until the day I die. You never forget the joy of unwrapping a BMX Burner, the Star Wars Death Star, or C-3PO and an R2-D2 that made noises when you pressed a button. There was SO much Star Wars, Transformers, Masters of the Universe…

If I had three words of advice for my childhood self?

“KEEP. THE. BOXES.”

Equally, “Enjoy the moment.” 

It wasn’t so much about the presents, but the memories attached to them. My parents certainly weren’t well off, but they always worked hard to give us the best lives. I was blessed, privileged, and will always be eternally grateful. 

So how did I go from playing ‘NOW! The Christmas Album’ EVERY bloody day in December, while gradually growing in pant-wetting excitement to… the present day?

Note: I never actually wet my pants.

Well, maybe once at school. 

The joy of Christmas can slightly go down a few notches in adulthood, especially if you’re childless and live alone – but since Christmas 2019 the dark spectre of both Alzheimer’s and Covid have really dampened spirits. They’ve been difficult, stressful, and troubled times. Yet I think last Christmas was particularly challenging. 

December 25th 2023 was the last time I saw my parents in the same room together. Dad had only been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s ten days earlier, so he had a grasp of what was going on. However, my mum clearly didn’t know what day it was, or the names of anyone in the room.

I was staying at a nearby hotel as me staying at the house that night would have been far too confusing for my mum. So I said I’d return the next day to spend more time with them. 

Deep down I knew it would be our last family Christmas at the house, as now they both had Alzheimer’s it was inevitable that my mum would need to go into a care home. Obviously I had no idea how badly things would escalate just five days later. Neither of my parents would see Easter, let alone the next Christmas.

Sadly, I never got to spend more time with my parents that Boxing Day. Following a sleepless night I woke up feeling terrible. I knew what it was as I’d experienced the dreaded coronavirus before – and I had all the trademark symptoms.

I’d taken a test on Christmas morning, as I always did before seeing my parents. Even if I felt absolutely fine I would always take the test. They were both extremely vulnerable so I was never going to risk passing anything on to them. Yet I had this moment of dread that I’d clearly just woken up with Covid and I’d spent the previous day with my family – including my parents. 

I told my dad I couldn’t see them that day as I was feeling too poorly and didn’t want to pass on my germs. I didn’t say I had Covid as he wouldn’t have known what it was and I didn’t want to cause unnecessary worry. It was only the next day, when I was able to take a test, that my suspicions were confirmed.

I stayed away that day to protect them, yet they were both in hospital for completely unrelated reasons by 2nd January 2024. Obviously I have no regrets about not visiting them on Boxing Day as planned. I don’t care if you think Covid is “just like a cold” I don’t think anyone, with any conscience, could visit two extremely vulnerable people knowing they have a contagious illness. 

I do, however, have regrets about not seeing them the previous Christmas, in 2022. My finances were at a real low and it became a logistical nightmare to make the 200 mile round trip and stick the dog in the kennels. I knew I could have, and should have, done more to get there. Yes we caught up later, but it’s never the same. 

I think that’s why my work ethic is now so strong. I’ve literally worked every day of 2024, apart from a few days around the time both parents died and the day of the funeral. It’s been hard work to make up for that barren period during the pandemic but I’m now making good progress.

I never want to be in a position where I’m too broke to make it home for Christmas again. I’ve had “complications” with my car this year, but have managed to obtain a hire car to make it back for two days. Had my car passed its MOT I would have made it down for a week and also caught up with friends, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be.

Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be. 

I certainly don’t want a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Future from another 40 years hence. “Yeah, it’s 2064, you’re now as bald as a coot, Star Wars Episode 15 is the worst thing you’ve ever seen and that dog of yours is now long dead. Although she lived until the age of 27 and gave you hell.”

He may even say; "It's your kids, David. Something's got to be done about your kids!"

The glory days of Christmas may be over, but I’d like to think of this year as just a quiet period where I can look back and remember the dozens of good times – along with just a few of the bad.

I’m looking at 2025 as the great Christmas reset. The festive season will never be the same again, but, despite the pain of recent years, we can still create new and happy memories going forward. New nostalgia to look back on in 40 years. I mean, me living another 40 years is incredibly optimistic, but it’s a possibility. Albeit a completely ludicrous one.

It’s still there, that tinge of Christmas joy. I just felt it. I mean, I just caved and listened to "I Believe in Father Christmas" by Greg Lake and now I'm in bits.

I wish you a hopeful Christmas

I wish you a brave new year

All anguish, pain and sadness

Leave your heart and let your road be clear

It's always been one of my favourite Christmas songs but I never knew anguish, pain or sadness when I was a child. Not like I know it now. So now it just hits a lot harder.

I’m not about to sprint upstairs and get the tree out or run down the street shouting “Merry Christmas Mr. Potter!” – but that tiny spark of Christmas magic still lurks within and it will never be diminished. 

"Christmas is more than barging up and down department store aisles and pushing people out of the way. Christmas is another thing finer than that. Richer, finer, truer, and it should come with patience and love, charity, compassion." ~ Rod Serling, creator of The Twilight Zone