Will’s World: Tis the season for strikes and shepherds

He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice, he’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice… No, it’s not the RPA inspector – they’re all on strike – it’s that fellow in the red suit.

I have mixed feelings about this time of year. I can’t abide the waste, overindulgence and fakeness that goes with so much of the modern version.

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The pretend markets peddling hideously overpriced plastic tat; the light-bedecked houses competing to see who can waste the most energy; the multinationals using nausea-inducing levels of sentiment as a sales tool.

None of this is what it’s supposed to be about.

I’m not a religious man, but I envy those who are. It must be such a comfort to have something fundamental to believe in and get you through the night.

I’ve come close on occasion.

Sitting in Canterbury cathedral listening to the choir sing to the heavens was a genuinely spiritual experience; standing on top of a very high mountain in Canada surrounded by the most perfect azure sky took my breath away (could have been the altitude, though); and I do often find myself praying extremely hard when my wife Sarah drives us anywhere.

What is it they say in the Army? There are no atheists in a foxhole.

Shepherds’ fright

You can’t just choose to believe something, though. It has to come from within, and perhaps it will for me one day.

But in the meantime, I still try to pause at some point over Christmas to contemplate the nativity and its meaning, and I suppose it isn’t a surprise that I’m drawn to the shepherds in the story.

Can you imagine what it was like for them?

There they are, just winding down for the night with a few beers, moaning about their boss and comparing the many ways the sheep in their charge tried to die that day, and suddenly out of nowhere the Angel of the Lord appears, surrounded by great light.

It’s no wonder they were afraid; I’d probably have been questioning just how strong the beer was, too.

But after receiving tidings of great joy, off they faithfully went to Bethlehem (no doubt to their boss’s annoyance).

More than 2,000 years later they’re a central part of every nativity play the world over, with countless thousands of small children wearing tea towels on their heads while holding toy lambs and hesitatingly singing “Away in a Manger” to the enduring delight of their parents.

I’ve been there in recent years, and the love, warmth and spirit of togetherness in those schools, chapels and churches is what it’s really about.

It’s a Wonderful Life © Snap/Shutterstock

Smells like Christmas

There are a few other things too though. The smell of a real Christmas tree in the house. The taste of mulled wine on a cold day, festive hits on the radio.

Everyone pulling together to get the feeding outside done early, then eating amazing food produced by our fellow farmers.

Watching It’s a Wonderful Life for the 30th time and still getting emotional when George and Mary Bailey give away their honeymoon money to help others.

Memories of being a child myself and all the excitement and anticipation beforehand, and being surrounded by family and loved ones.

Having a few drinks with friends, and just being with my five gorgeous girls? I guess it’s not so bad, really.

Merry Christmas to you and yours, and here’s to a peaceful and prosperous 2023 for us all.