(Anybody remember Para Handy?)

Last Christmas I broke a tradition of 50 years. I said no.  

My eldest daughter had been singing on a short choir tour through Europe, and she planned to sing at three services in our cathedral here - one on Christmas Eve, and two on Christmas morning. I couldn’t host Christmas dinner for 11 and attend.  

Having spent a score of Christmas mornings tending to tatties for 11 or more (and not building Lego with little ones) I wasn't popular with my mother for putting myself first. And I did. I chose to immerse myself in my daughter’s singing, and that ruffled my mother’s plans to be hosted and hold court with her grandchildren. She didn’t say it out loud. She wasn’t cast aside but included, for the first time, in my younger brother’s plans. I was sent a nippy text message from her saying that, after 50 years together, it

was only right that I should be allowed to do what I like on Christmas Day. It felt loaded - “allowed”. Maybe only my eyes read the load. 

Things were very different and, although I felt guilt (a lot, this would affect my dad too), I stuck to my heart and found that the world didn’t collapse. I felt a flicker of lightness. For the first time ever, my ex-partner hosted for me and our children, instead of the other way around. I appreciated that.  

Learning to gently say no, most especially at a time of year when things are magnified, and energy easily sapped, is not easy. And it can be a vital spark.  

Love from 

The room above the garage

A Moodscope member