Twas the first day of Twixtmas. Or Boxing Day for some of us.

The giddy excess of Christmas Day is over and we have 6 days left of the old year. 6 days of exploring new books, toiletries, candles, maybe some early clearing out. 6 days of nibbling in the foothills of the festive food mountain. 6 days to savour the gift that is a loving family. Fascinating friends and a  solid house to call home. 6 days of pondering Christmas Pasts.

For no particular reason I spent some time pondering Brian Bilston’s poem.

Two reasons. I am a woman of simple needs at Christmas, and indeed life. Family, friends, some travel , some kindness, health and happiness. Positivity where possible. Yes there are dark moments but valuing and storing the good vibes helps out in the  more uncomfortable and distressing moments of life.

For many years I shared Christmas with a woman who,  valued and relished negativity.  She views life and other people with the sharp acidity of lemon juice on a mouth ulcer

Christmas always demonstrated the chasm between our outlooks.  How would she use Brian’s Poem as inspiration for her Christmas  experience and how would I. Who knows?

To be clear she was as happy in her negative world as I am elsewhere and as generous as any other person in the festive season. Different viewpoints can be interesting and enlightening. Also infuriating.

The Christmas things we have opposing views on in no particular order are

Shortbread biscuits.

Why would anyone give shortbread biscuits at Christmas? Her

The year I gave her a big box and I received a smaller one.

A golden buttery treat to see me through the winter months. Me

Candles.

What would anyone buy me a candle for, I have lovely bright electricity.

The more the merrier. Me

Photographs of children

The non- genetic are more highly prized. Her

Twenty of the same three children, fabulous. Me

Not sure I get that, but each to their own, or not.

I could go on but that would be missing the point. How have these two very different women existed in close familial contact for more than 40 years.

Compromise in the public domain.

Respect and understanding of different life experiences.

An awareness that one of the greatest gifts of Christmas is the confidential invisibility of ‘ Thought Bubbles’

Honestly, without invisible ‘Thought Bubbles’ we would not have made it past the first Christmas.

A quarter of her is in the children that I adore and an eighth in the grandchildren who are loved and cherished. I would not have them different in any way. Maybe her gift of negativity is useful and strengthening for them with their abundance of positivity from all their other gene pools.

So to Brian’s poem of collective nouns I would add.

A Compromise of Christmases.

More valuable in so many different ways.