Contractual Christmas Post

Back from Essex at last, it's been an interesting Christmas. Watched about a year's worth of TV in the space of a few days and missed probably the only thing I actually wanted to watch (Peter and the Wolf) which is a strange inversion of the way things should have been.

Oddity of the year was the enormous ham that my Dad won in a raffle and everyone who entered the house had to be taken to the ham in order to gasp, and oooh and say "That's a big ham" and then try to pick it up.

My Dad's Mum came over again, she hasn't had a clue who I am for years. She kept asking my Dad whether he'd received her Christmas card which wasn't doing his anger management much good - particularly as he'd addressed and sent them all anyway. She did provide the comedy moment of the season though with a classically loud fart delivered with a look of terror and then rather expert attempt to pretend nothing had happened. This provided much needed relief for the gathered throng. Big Sis had tears running down her cheeks.

Talking of my Dad I also feel I'm letting The Specials down still having a relationship with him and I have "If you have a racist friend" playing in my head for much of the infrequent occasions I see him. However my relationship with him is marginally stronger than with Terry Hall so, sorry lads, not realistic I'm afraid.

Incidentally, how was I meant to respond when he announced in a loud angry voice that New Labour were run "by a bunch of Scottish Queers" followed quickly by "at least their not Irish Queers I suppose, that's one thing at least." I'm not sure querying the Scottish bit was necessarily getting to the root of the problem in hindsight. Lenin would be spinning in his tomb at my lack of rock like intransigence I'm sure.

Whatever, I actually rather enjoy a family Christmas, although I notice all the AWL bloggers seem to have a party line of hating their families - so I'll try not to go down that route. One of the best things about Christmas (aside from the Turkey) is it's such a great time of year to feel sad. At least it is as long as the rest of your life is going along reasonably okay.

I always find myself thinking of the dead. Richard Green, my best friend at primary school, died in a car crash about this time of year and I enjoy reminiscing (to myself) about him. Which leads me on to thinking about Gareth who I used to walk home from secondary school with every day who was shot to death the year after I left school (in Newport, Essex, if your wondering). He was such a lovely chap and thoroughly harmless which made his murder so difficult to deal with at the time.

Of course it leads me on to thinking about probably one of the greatest influences of my life. My Gran (Mum's Mum) who died three years ago at exactly this time of year. Unlike the other Gran she kept her faculties right up until the end, which I think she thought was rather a mixed blessing. In her final years she went through a real reassessment of her life. Turning away from God, and even going back over her early political career.

The very last conversation I had with her we discussed her experience standing for election in Sawbridgeworth as the first ever female council candidate (she didn't get in). It was the '45 election and as the Labour candidate she was constantly asked on the doorstep "Are you a Communist?" and she'd vigorously shake her head and say "Oh no! Oh not at all." Well she confided to me how wrong she felt she was and how she wished she'd told them all "Of course I am - nothing else makes sense." It's interesting the regrets we have later in life.

It's also been difficult being away from a proper Internet connection and therefore you've missed out on some stunning Xmas blog posts I'd planned... never mind, perhaps next year.