Chapter 1: The Countdown to Christmas

With just 328 days remaining until Christmas, excitement is in the air. This past Christmas was the most enjoyable I've experienced since I was six, making the anticipation for the next one quite natural. As I turn fifty this year, waiting forty-three years for another memorable Christmas felt long, yet it was undeniably worthwhile. I shared this special time with my wife's brother's family in the tranquil countryside of Dorset, UK, where the atmosphere was so peaceful that I could have happily stayed there for the entire year.

In the spirit of the British band Wizzard, I often find myself wishing, "I wish it could be Christmas every day." You may wonder why I'm reminiscing about Christmas at the end of January, when spring is gradually taking hold in the Northern Hemisphere. Honestly, I'm not quite sure myself. This morning, I woke up with the phrase from The Muppet Christmas Carol echoing in my mind: "One more sleep 'til Christmas." A quick mental calculation revealed that Christmas was indeed about 330 days away.

When I shared this with my wife, she looked at me as if I had lost my senses. "That's nice, Phil," she replied, wincing. "Almost an entire year." She then proceeded to discuss the various plans we had for the year leading up to Christmas, not to mention the lovely seasons of spring, summer, and autumn. While she made a valid point, I can't help but be a sucker for nostalgia—especially when it comes to Christmas.

For me, childhood Christmases were the pinnacle of joy. Though I enjoyed spring, summer, and autumn, nothing could compare to Christmas. The holiday of 1980, when I was six, remains etched in my memory as the very best. I was young enough to believe in Santa Claus but old enough to appreciate the love and warmth my parents provided as they watched me excitedly drag my sack of presents from my room to theirs. As an only child, all eyes were on me as I gleefully unwrapped my gifts. Later, my grandparents, aunt, and uncle joined us for Christmas dinner, filling the space with laughter and cheer.

Many may have experienced similar childhood Christmases, especially those who grew up in families like mine. While it may seem ordinary, this particular Christmas holds a special significance for me—it was the last one spent as a complete family. Within two years, both my mother and grandmother passed away, and the Christmas of 1982 was a quieter affair, consisting only of my father, my grandfather, and me. Even my aunt and uncle were absent that year.

Depressing? A little.

This is precisely why I hold the Christmas of 1980 in such high regard. It was not only a memorable occasion but also the final one shared with my family. Like a Broadway show that goes on tour yet never captures the magic of the original performance, subsequent Christmases have felt like a mere echo of that first one. They were enjoyable, but they lacked the depth and drama of that unforgettable holiday.

Until this year, when I experienced a transformation and found joy in Christmas once more.

Nostalgia can be a double-edged sword. Longing for the past can render us paralyzed. Recently, I wrote about my time in Granada as a young man in a piece titled A Very Good Year Indeed. It reflects on my year in that beautiful Spanish city as a carefree expat in my blue trousers and espadrilles, and how I abruptly returned to the UK without understanding why.

For years, I regretted that decision, unable to comprehend the rationale behind it. There was none. I was happy there, had a job, friends—essentially, a life. So, why did I leave to return to "home"?

As I expressed in my writing, "Why did I go back to England and end up sleeping on my mate’s couch in Nottingham?"

It left me in a state of confusion, and it took time for me to reconcile it. I thought my life would never be the same again and that I had truly messed up. Each morning, I woke up burdened by a nostalgia more painful than any hangover.

Eventually, I moved past it. I grew older and learned to accept my choices. I realized that good times are not just reserved for youth; they can happen at any age!

This has been a recurring trap for me—believing that enjoyment was solely for the young and that aging meant succumbing to a life of relentless nostalgia, with nothing left to anticipate. I often found myself daydreaming about what life would be like had I remained in Spain or if my mother were still alive. This cycle of thought was torturous and futile.

I've come to terms with this, which is why I genuinely enjoyed Christmas this year. I understand that life is a series of events that come to an end. Childhood passes, the belief in Santa fades, adventures in foreign lands conclude, and ultimately, life itself ends. Clinging to the past, berating myself for decisions made or not made, is both foolish and unproductive. I cannot control everything, nor should I attempt to.

I've stopped looking back, relinquished my regrets, and ceased my self-criticism. I've found peace with my past decisions and accepted them for what they are. Now, my days are as fulfilling as they have ever been, and I've started to look forward to things once again—even Christmas!

Chapter 2: A New Perspective on Nostalgia

In this video titled Countdown To Christmas - Doing It Ourselves, we explore the beauty and challenges of preparing for the holiday season, highlighting the importance of creating new memories while cherishing past ones.