Traditionally, this is the time for making New Year’s Resolutions – because of some arbitrary point at which a section of humankind have chosen to use as the end of one designated, numbered solar revolution and the beginning of the next. We can’t even agree as a species on the date – Jewish and Chinese new years are different for a start…
And why January? I can understand using midnight as a dividing point for days because it’s during the hours of darkness when our biology suggests we sleep (not that we always do – and it’s disconcerting to find yourself awake at 4am and realise it’s tomorrow and not worth going to bed now). But the middle of the winter? Why not have New Year’s Day in August, when we can spend the holiday on the beach? OK, given England’s weather, it’s still a risk, but a better one than January,
Anyway, after making plenty of resolutions I’ve kept for precisely the same length of time I kept writing in that lovely new diary I received every Christmas as a child – and often the resolution was to keep the diary – I stopped resolving several years ago, and just decided to make any changes to my life as and when I decided they were needed. For instance: having recognised caffeine-related moods I started replacing coffee with herbal tea. Do that repetitively and it becomes a habit – make a new year’s resolution and it lasts as long as the Christmas tree lights (yes, the new set’s gone wrong again this year…)
I have been asked so many times whether I’m making any New Year’s Resolutions though, that in desperation I have come up with some – ten, in fact. That seems to be the right number for rules you are expected to keep to….
So for 2010 I resolve:
1. Not to take up smoking or drugs
2. Not to join the BNP
3. To refrain from putting tomato ketchup on any of my food (because the stuff makes me feel nauseous).
4. Not to become a lesbian.
Note: this is not in any way meant as a slight on gay people of either gender, just a reflection of the fact that never in my life have I been remotely attracted to anyone nature has not seen fit to bless with testicles.
5. Not to become a member of any established church – especially not the Church of Scientology.
6. To read, and reread the poetry of Keats, TS Eliot, Shakespeare, Byron and any other writer that takes my fancy.
7. To eat chocolate in moderation (but I define – and if necessary redefine – what is meant by moderation).
8. Not to covet – or indeed cover – my neighbour’s ox.*
9. Not to associate with anyone with jam for brains.*
10. Not to put socks in the toaster.*
*I am indebted to St Eddie of Izzard for inspiring these very important resolutions.
Right 2010 – bring it on: I’m ready for you, and I confidently predict that these resolutions will last longer than any I’ve made before….
…..with the possible exception of No 7.
Just off to make some toast now.
Whoops – was that a pair of socks? Sorry – thought it was bread slices…..
Thursday 31 December 2009
Sunday 6 December 2009
It’s beginning to feel a lot like Osirismas….
…or Tammuzmas, Dionysiusmas, Sol Invictusmas – call it what you will, there have been numerous ‘gods’ celebrating December 25 as their birthday. The one notable religious figure who, according to accepted facts, was not born on Christmas Day is…. Jesus Christ. Depending on whose dates you go by, he may have been born in March, September or October – but not December.
The date was borrowed – like nearly all Christmas traditions – from pagan religions based on sun worship, and reflects no more that the visible movement of the sun after the winter solstice (December 21) towards the lengthening of the daylight hours. This in ancient times provided just the excuse everyone needed in the depths of a cold depressing winter with little fresh food, to eat, drink and be merry – just the time to cheer ourselves up with a good old knees-up. Just as we do today, however we dress it up.
I say borrowed – misappropriated might be a better term for what the fledgling Christian church did to the old Yule celebrations, along with plenty of other traditional festivals and customs. For what do holly, mistletoe, ivy, pine trees, Yule logs, mince pies and tinsel have to do with the birth of a child in the Middle East 2000-ish years ago? Even if we accept the Biblical story, the only gifts around were pretty boring: gold myrrh and frankincense, and there would have been no greenery bedecking the manger in the desert. Neither is Joseph recorded as celebrating his son’s birth (OK, stepson then) with a glass of mulled wine and a mince pie.
No – they all relate to the nature worship of our ancestors, when evergreen trees and plants represented continuing life and fertility over the bleakest period of the year. Mistletoe itself was a fertility symbol, used to strew over the beds of newlyweds to ensure children of the marriage – our current tradition of kissing under it is merely a watered down version of this.
As for the Bible story itself: again, many pagan gods were said to have been born of virgins, in stables or other lowly places, had stars foretelling their arrival and to have been visited by wise men.
So maybe what we are all doing this month is exactly what all our forebears did, whatever belief system they had – cheering up the cold winter months with a few parties, family get togethers and enjoying the excuse to ditch the diet.
The date was borrowed – like nearly all Christmas traditions – from pagan religions based on sun worship, and reflects no more that the visible movement of the sun after the winter solstice (December 21) towards the lengthening of the daylight hours. This in ancient times provided just the excuse everyone needed in the depths of a cold depressing winter with little fresh food, to eat, drink and be merry – just the time to cheer ourselves up with a good old knees-up. Just as we do today, however we dress it up.
I say borrowed – misappropriated might be a better term for what the fledgling Christian church did to the old Yule celebrations, along with plenty of other traditional festivals and customs. For what do holly, mistletoe, ivy, pine trees, Yule logs, mince pies and tinsel have to do with the birth of a child in the Middle East 2000-ish years ago? Even if we accept the Biblical story, the only gifts around were pretty boring: gold myrrh and frankincense, and there would have been no greenery bedecking the manger in the desert. Neither is Joseph recorded as celebrating his son’s birth (OK, stepson then) with a glass of mulled wine and a mince pie.
No – they all relate to the nature worship of our ancestors, when evergreen trees and plants represented continuing life and fertility over the bleakest period of the year. Mistletoe itself was a fertility symbol, used to strew over the beds of newlyweds to ensure children of the marriage – our current tradition of kissing under it is merely a watered down version of this.
As for the Bible story itself: again, many pagan gods were said to have been born of virgins, in stables or other lowly places, had stars foretelling their arrival and to have been visited by wise men.
So maybe what we are all doing this month is exactly what all our forebears did, whatever belief system they had – cheering up the cold winter months with a few parties, family get togethers and enjoying the excuse to ditch the diet.
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