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The Final Christmas

¦ dialling in from Jesus Mound ¦

14:06 GMT, Saturday 26th December 2009.  I say it's Saturday but it really could be any day and I wouldn't know the difference.  A combination of the natural breakdown of normal time-keeping during the Christmas period and a result of being here for nearly two months now.

I've just had my last Christmas in the house I grew up in and that has been a central touchstone in my life since the age of 9 years old.  My parents are now dead.  I'm 39 and about to enter a new year, a new phase, a new paradigm.

Although I'm wary of rawness of the emotional scars I may be carrying, I'm excited for the future; in the words of Jim Morgan; "...is a mixture of tradition and innovation - so revere the old ways and welcome the new ones."

Christmas was as wonderful as I could have hoped for, considering the circumstances.  

Jo and Kelvin were here for almost a week, plenty of time for us to retrace the contours of traditions laid down over the past 8 years: they've been coming up every year for a Norwegian Christmas since December 2001. There was the ubiquitous visit to Tynemouth, to walk the pier and munch the best fish and chips in the world from Marshalls.  For Kelvin this was a goodbye. There's no longer any reason for him to come back here.  For me, it was awareness of the end of an era.

I'll still be doing Tynemouth and the Pier when I come back to Newcastle over the next few months in the final phase of wrapping up the house to sell, or just rent (still not sure).  So my final goodbye to Newcastle is still a little way off.

There were walks in the Dene.  There was Modern Warfare II on PS3.  There was Fury of Dracula.  There was the languid quality of the passage of time whilst relaxing and savouring these moments together.

And the lovely interchange of people between the two houses, here and the family next door, with the open gap in the boundary between both back gardens, we can step outside, cross the decking and enter the other house through the back doors. This is a redolent memory of life here, since I came up in 2006, staying for 3 months... and my mother and I "found" each other again.

One night, alone, I opened a bottle of 1992 Oreghegy in an act of nostalgia.  It's been here in this house, all these years, matching the 17 years since I moved to Bristol... it was a golden colour, utterly divine on the taste buds although not as amazing as the 1979 Muskat I opened last Christmas...that was 30 years of history in a bottle.

We celebrate Christmas Eve, rather than the English Christmas Day.

Just before 4pm my sister and I went upstairs to mum's bedroom and "brought mum downstairs".  We placed her urn on her favourite armchair, wrapped in her favourite scarf and the green cardigan she wore on her final days, and placed a Santa hat on her head... the one we used to share amongst us before opening the presents one at a time.

At 4pm (one hour behind Norway) we tuned into Norwegian radio and listened to the bells ringing, something mum did every Christmas stretching back into our childhoods.  With tears streaming down our faces, we stood up, raised glasses to the mum in her chair, made a toast and drank and remembered.

My sister and her partner cooked up an absolute feast.  Truly spectacular.

6 A.M. Christmas Day Jo and Kelvin left to spend Christmas with their families, back in the South West.

That was yesterday.

So now it's Boxing Day, I'm sat at the Oak Refectory table.  Mug of strong coffee.  Pale sunlight reflecting off thick icy snow that's been lying around for over a week now.  I'm playing one of mum's CD's, by the Oslo Gospel Choir - Det skjedde i de dager.  It's become the soundtrack to this final Christmas.  It's evokes profound memories of the two years I spent Christmas in Norway (1981 and 1982) when I was 11 and 12... two of the most magical times in my life, ever, and so carries with it a deep sense of FAMILY, of what I've lost and also what I still have and belong to.

It's the kind of CD that'll rip my heart when I next play it, when I'm long gone from here.

I wonder where I'll be next Christmas. Everything will be different and new.

I've got four days left here before I return to Bristol, and my phasing back in to reality.

I'm going to watch Sherlock Holmes Hound of the Baskervilles, on TV, and Poirot of course.

I'm going to tinker with the new design of my website, and work on the new novel Dog Eat Dog.  If you've not caught a sneak preview of the first chapters of the new book, you can do so  here

Quick promo note: I've slashed the price on my last novel, Edge, as part of a promotional campaign, grab it now or before the end of January and you'll save yourself £6 GBP (compared to normal price) preview or buy here