I am rather a traditionalist in many ways. I imagine this is because with tradition comes the certainty that all will be well and I, like most people I expect, take comfort in the knowledge that these traditional things have been undertaken with monotonous regularity over decades or even centuries and the outcome is, almost without exception, that all is well.
Take Christmas for instance. I'm used to this being traditional and in many ways predictable. I like it that way.
It starts in October, though I did see some pubs touting their Christmas menus as early as September this year. In some ways the change is almost subliminal; it sneaks up on you and before you know it its right on top of you, like a cold. My suspicions were first raised maybe ten weeks ago, at the supermarket. I wanted some jalopeno peppers to go in my renowned triple layer, more cheese and chilli than is good for you, nachos and found them vacated from their normal home. In their place were pallet loads of twelve inch diameter tins of Quality Street & Roses Chocolates competitively priced at £7 per tin or two tins for £10. I was tempted quite frankly my friends, as I am a sucker for a chocolate, but I shook myself out of the 'thought of sugar' trance and stepped away from the chocolates, only to find myself faced with an entire festive range of sweets and savouries from plum pudding and brandy snaps to pickled red cabbage, vacuum packed ham joints and a small brickbond wall made from hundreds of boxes of Christmas crackers. Closer inspection revealed that some of these items would be out of shelf life by the time the big days came around which I found strangely mysterious. I eventually found my jalopenos, but it was clear that the Christmas run-up starting gun had been fired.
In the subsequent weeks there was a steady and relentless increase in shops of piped music from the "Best Christmas Album - Ever" compilation CD box set. I'm sure Roy Wood and Noddy Holder are grateful for the annual royalty cheques. Then there is the insidious increase in TV and radio advertising for this year's children's 'must have' toys; a way whereby kids get brainwashed into pestering their parents to spend significant sums of money, that many of them don't have, on fadish pieces of plastic with a tuppeny micro chip that will be broken or tossed aside by new year's day.
We left for India at the end of November when the whole programme was just getting into its full swing. So I missed the steady increase in marketing, as well as the snow, and I expect that today sees the first TV advertising campaigns for the January sales and next year's summer holidays. I missed the office parties. I missed the climbing and kissing that goes with a little too much festive cheer. I missed the 'Secret Santa' exchanges, though I have never really understood that as an idea - I would always want someone to know that I'd bought them a gift and the thought that went into its selection. I missed all that modern 'tradition' and will miss the whistlestop tour of relatives and friends on Christmas day.
There's a substantial Christian population in India. They will celebrate Christmas, but its an understated and personal celebration. People of other faiths will take Christmas day off too and spend it with their families. There's a bit of tinsel here and there, and there will be some fireworks tonight, but here it is much more about what Christmas truly means for those that believe.
Any of you that know me will know that I am about as religious as an injection moulded garden chair. When I say regarding Christmas that I am a traditionalist and like it that way I think I've actually been sucked in by the hype and I've become a convert to the modern commercialised tradition without even realising it. Being away and in a different culture and climate for the first Christmas in many years I think I am now a convert to a Christmas that is a matter of faith for those that believe it and a day off for the rest of us.
That I think is a tradition worth keeping alive and if we do then I think that all will be well.
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