So this year I’m doing what I have always wanted to try at Christmas: I will be completely by myself.
It all happened like this, children, so gather round and pay attention as Uncle Paddy relates the story of “The Rather Sad and Pathetic Christmas.”
Now it happened one December that my kid was going away with his mother until January. And it happened that I will not be going home to Ireland, even though I could. And it also happened that I no longer have a live-in partner, nor even a cat to call my own.
Which leads to one conclusion: Christmas is off!
I’m not really sure how to handle this yet. Perhaps I will show up at some friend’s house, like the loser uncle with the moustache back in the 70s who made his only appearance on December 25th, presenting as a gift a bottle of whiskey which he ended up drinking himself.
Or perhaps I will be a charity helper and hand out whatever it is that is handed out to homeless people at shelters these days.
Or perhaps I will just stay inside the flat, peering through a crack in the blinds and watching all the happy families going about their ruddy-faced fun while I stand there in my underwear, sipping from a bottle of cheap gin and occasionally scratching myself.
One thing I will possibly do, which I have always wanted to try, is to go the famous Stockholm beer-hall Kvarnen where they have a Christmas Eve drinking session of mythic proportions.
I may even go to work for a few days, since I have an exciting impulse trip booked in January, for which I will need to save up some holidays.
I will also get some presents for myself and place them under the tree. And if I buy them and wrap them while really dunk I won’t even remember what they are, so it will be like a surprise!
But seriously people, don’t worry, I’ll be fine. And you can easily pull Christmas crackers by yourself by simply jamming one end in a door. And you always, always get the toy.
/ Paddy (Fishing for sympathy..? Who, me?)