Monday, December 1, 2014

Det är Årstiden

Christmas is coming.

Glowing stars hang in the windows. Red candles and tableclothes adorn the kitchen. Two large crates of faux pine branches, Viennese baubles and tomte-themed placemats lurk in the corners of the room, ready to take pride of place towards the other end of advent. I have Pa Rupapum Pum repeating on me like an auditory turkey curry.

Several years back, V bought me a musical stocking. It has a jingle-belled Rudolph, who wiggles and sings 'Merry Christmas' when you press the button in his arm. Not the 'Merry Christmas' you and I know and love, a version that goes to the tune of Lulu's 'Shout'. It has lyrics like 'Don't forget the milk and cookies, don't forget to bring all the presents to my house now', truly capturing the modern spirit of Christmas yours for only £7.99, order now for an free mince pie themed coaster set.

F knows how to turn it on. Shout? I certainly tried. Still can't drown the bloody thing out.

Advent calendars are far too boring and normal for Sweden. We've nailed a doll to the wall. It's got lots of pockets and loops on it, one for every day of Advent, which can be filled with appropriate goodies. It's a great thing, a new Christmas tradition for the family. V and I were very over-excited as we filled it and hung it up.

F is also very excited, although also quite cross.

"Car!" she said, spotting a nice red plastic racing car tied to pocket number one with green ribbon. "Tack Nissa!" and then she ran about playing with it very cheerfully.

She came back within five minutes. "Plane!" she said, spotting a nice plastic biplane. V and I chuckled indulgently to each other at her avarice, and then explained Advent again.

"No, you only get one pocket a day. The plane is for another time."

Good old 'another time'. With 'not right now' and 'maybe later', the principle hours of the Neverland Clock. F was appropriately appalled at this chronological invention and had a suitable tantrum at being balked, only soothed when she got to run the racing car over Daddy's face for a bit.

The doll is called Nissa. Later on, after the fifteen minutes of low winter sun gave way to icy darkness, we began to realise that it's all very well having snug and cozy lights through the flat. But the flickering candles also give Nissa a sinister cast. like a vaguely Yuleish Slender Man. Twice I've caught myself checking she isn't getting taller.

Or nearer. Uh-oh ho ho.

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