So this is Christmas, or rather this was Christmas

It’s Christmas Eve, evening if that makes sense, and I’m relaxing in front of my computer which, after the issue I reported earlier in the week, seems to be working alright. I’ll qualify that statement by saying working “at the moment”. For what it was worth, I went into the factory this morning, and by turning up for just a half day, the company granted us the whole day off, gratis. The six-mile drive was one of the quietest and easiest I’ve experienced in a long time, being virtually traffic free, pointing to the fact that for many people, the Christmas holiday had already began. If I’m brutally honest, I didn’t do a great deal, although I did box up and clear some old financial records away, to make room for the contractors who will be installing a new kitchen, in our staff dining area, over the Christmas period.

We shut up shop at 12.30pm, and I enjoyed the same, traffic free drive back to Tonbridge, although there was perhaps a few more vehicles on the road. The sun was shining, but with a cold easterly wind taking the edge of the temperatures, it did feel a little more like Christmas, than the mild conditions we’ve been experiencing lately. After a spot of lunch, I spent much of the afternoon assisting Mrs PBT’s with a number of domestic matters, all connected with preparations for the so-called “Big Day”, taking place the following morning.

All a little subdued then, and nothing like the Christmases of 30-40 years ago. We’ve witnessed some significant changes in drinking habits over the intervening four decades or so, especially when it comes to visiting the pub at lunchtime.  An activity that was once common practice, has virtually dried out, particularly within the workplace, with many employers proscribing lunchtime drinking for their workforce, altogether.  I can certainly remember long boozy lunch times, either on Christmas Eve, or the last working day prior to the festive break. The company would close around midday, and whilst some workers would head home to their families, others would head to the pub- myself included.

In the days before all-day opening, there would have been a rush to get in as may pints as possible, before “last orders” and then, “time” was called. At that stage it might have been either be time for farewells, or possibly off to someone’s house, where further drink might be taken. Such occasions were the preserve not just of hardened drinkers, but of workmates with understanding spouses who weren’t averse to having their domesticity disturbed by increasingly noisy and boisterous colleagues.

I remember staggering home from one such impromptu celebration, back when I was living in Maidstone, but working in Tonbridge. I’m still not sure how I got home, although I suspect a colleague, who’d been restricting his alcohol consumption, gave me a lift. I also remember turning the key in the front door lock, and then almost falling in across the threshold, as the latch suddenly released. My wife, at the time, was not amused and neither I think was the elderly neighbour from next door, who’d called round to offer her yuletide greetings!

Times change, as do people and places, and as increased responsibilities come along, so does the pressure to behave oneself, and conform.  There is pressure now on companies and businesses to encourage more responsible behaviour, amongst their employees, as are the increased responsibilities around duty of care. This is a field I am increasingly aware of through my position of Company Safety Advisor. Also, working in a rural location does mean the majority of employees drive to work, although a reasonable number commute in by train.

Returning, for a moment to those boozy Christmas Eve, pre-festive sessions, I can’t honestly remember the last time I attended one, apart from the time when over a period of two or three hours, I felt a bout on influenza taking hold. That was at the Man of Kent in Tonbridge, and despite my best attempts to try and drown the infection, it had me well in its grasp by the time I reached home. A day or so later, Mrs PBT’s went down with the same, so that wasn’t exactly the ideal Christmas present for my nearest and dearest. I think that since that incident, the pair of us have tended to avoid packed pubs in the run-up to Christmas. A touch of paranoia perhaps, but probably not a bad strategy overall.

Back to the present, with Christmas Day dawning early, it was all hands to the pump, or Eileen’s hands and mine. Matthew, very sensibly stayed in bed, whilst us oldies got up and started getting things ready. So, turkey plus ham joint in the oven, vegetables prepped, garden chairs retrieved from the shed and given a brush down and wipe over before being brought indoors. Then, after Matthew had surfaced, it was time for opening the presents – a tradition that has been seriously toned down over the years, and for good reason. As we grow older, we start to realise that there is less and less that we actually NEED, and the same applies to things that we really want.

I’m talking here about STUFF, physical things, objects, trinkets, if you like, items that might be nice to have, are things none of us really need. Eileen and I both reached the conclusion that if there is something we want, then we’ll just go out and buy it, or order it online. So, whilst we have continued with the present giving part of Christmas, it is primarily for the sake of our off spring. To be fair, Matthew has never been that demanding when it comes to birthdays or Christmases, and as long as he has certain, mainly food and drink, items, he’s a happy bunny.

Lecture over, if that’s the right word, and after unwrapping the presents, it was a question of a few nibbles, assisting Mrs PBT’s with a few final preparations, before Matthew’s girlfriend Charlotte and her pet pooch turned up. Food on the table, with plenty of decent beer for those that wanted it, and good conversation. This was followed by a lazy afternoon and evening, with more food consumed - Christmas pudding, mince pies, brandy sauce etc. I had a reasonable amount to drink - a couple of glasses of Harvey’s XXXX Old Ale, from the 5-litre mini-keg I bought the previous week. A glass of Pilsner Urquell – because the fridge was far more accessible from where I was sitting, and then, later on in the evening, I cracked open the bottle of Fuller’s Vintage Ale that I bought last year.

Brewed in small batches, to a strength of 8.5%, and released on a yearly basis, the bottle I bought n Waitrose last year was a 2023 vintage. I’d chilled it slightly before opening, by leaving the bottle out on the back step. My tasting notes from Untappd, describe the beer as, "Full-bodied, packed full of juicy malt, and with more than a hint of spiciness. Definitely a beer to be sipped and savoured". I resisted the temptation to crack open the bottle of port I bought for last year’s Christmas, although I expect it will get opened, this time around, and that, gentle readers, was Christmas 2025, in a nutshell.