Bert Trautmann, Harriet's Biscuits and other reasons to be cheerful this Christmas

I usually hate Christmas.  Or rather I hate having to do anything at Christmas.

I can't be bothered to shop, or to put the tree up, I rarely send Christmas cards and I resent spending money.  All in all, this doesn't make me Mr Festive Cheer 2011 or whichever year I'm moaning about.

I moan endlessly about the commercialisation of Christmas, and about greed and wanting stuff and all that.  Blah blah blah I go on.

Well, this year I'm almost enjoying it.  And as crazy as it sounds, a lot of it has been to do with working in a shop.  I haven't exactly been doing a survey, but the feeling I get from most people isn't that they've been half Nelsoned into the shops to buy stuff for their loved ones.  They actually seem like they want to do it, as if they like giving gifts to people they love.  Some of them seem genuinely excited, as if they can't wait to hand them over.  And old ladies who can't walk very well have got their coats on, got on buses and brought themselves into town to buy a gift voucher for their grandson, or whoever.  And people have been buying books about Bert Trautmann for their dads who remember the 1956 Cup Final when he played on with a broken neck.  And other people have been giggling at the till while they're buying books of jokes for their 52 year old dad, so he can sit in the chair full of Turkey and smashed on sherry with a paper hat on, and tell a few jokes before he passes out in front of the Queen.  And two girls could barely speak when they asked me for a book called 'How to Poo at Work', which is full of diagrams of cubicles and lots of real advice on etiquette and all sorts.  That will really make someone's Christmas Day (I hope).

And I've been food shopping twice.  And today I was in there hours, and thank goodness I wasn't being time and motion studied because I did more laps of the fruit and veg section than they do laps of the track in the Grand Prix, and I didn't even know what some of the stuff was I was supposed to be buying.  I'd heard of cloves of Garlic, but today I had to buy garlic-less cloves and I wasn't sure if they're fresh or powdered or they come in tubes or what.  They didn't have any anyway.  Or any lemons or cooking apples or muffins or red potatoes (so that's my Christmas ruined). 

And I got my foot run over, and I had to ask a shelf stacker to look after my trolley while I went to go pee, because I'd been in there so long my bladder had packed up, but I didn't mind at all.  I liked being in amongst people.  People buying things to make a nice dinner for their mother who's getting over a stroke, or for their stepson who is home from uni (oh hang on, that was just me).

But whatever they were in there for, they were people buying things to help them to enjoy spending time with their loved ones, and that can't be a bad thing can it?

There's a Half Man Half Biscuit song, called It's Cliched to be Cynical at Christmas, and I just listened to it, and I think I am a cliche, because I moan a lot about Christmas.  Well, moaning doesn't make the Christmas dinner, and it doesn't wrap presents, and it doesn't put any more love in the world. 

So, I have put up a tree, and I have decorated it really badly, so it only looks any good from one particular angle if you don't look closely.  And I sent 6 Christmas cards, including one to the Chemist to thank them for all the drugs, and I've bought one of just about every type of dead animal there is that you can eat.

And I'm looking forward to Christmas.  And I don't need any presents, because I've already had a really special one.  I got a parcel with biscuits in that were made by my small friend Harriet, and some of them had melted boiled sweets in the middle to look like stained glass, and some were in the shape of boots and hearts and I ate them with my cup of tea one morning, before I went off to work, to sell books to people.  And it made me feel happy.  And selling books and knowing Harriet are just two of the reasons why I want to be better at Christmas this year.

May 1979 - I only popped out for a hot dog, and they let Thatcher in

The first time I had mustard was up the Eiffel Tower.  I bought a hot dog, and they had this yellow stuff in bottles, and I thought that must be French ketchup and so I piled loads of it on my hot dog and then seconds later my tongue was melting off, and the hot dog ended up in the bin at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

But since then I have developed a taste for mustard and I often have it in sandwiches, and when I do it makes me think of my mum making us sandwiches when I was younger because she generally puts mustard in sandwiches, especially ham ones.

That trip to France was in May 1979.  It was the first time I'd ever been abroad.  I only went out of the country for 5 days, and Thatcher got elected while I was gone.  I found this out from a teacher who had bought a paper on the Champs Elysees.  She got in again in 1987 while I was in Germany.  She was always getting elected while I was out of the country.

That trip was great, but the coach journey wasn't.  We didn't go on one of those fancy buses with the toilets that they have now.  We just went on the same Wallace Arnold bus that we used to go a mile up the road to Kippax swimming baths in.  They're fine for just nipping round the corner, but they're not much good for an 18 hour journey to Paris.

That trip cost £63 which was an absolute bargain.  I also got a £4 reduction for not having a dad, because it should have been £67 but we asked for a reduction for being a one parent family.

I took some spending money, and I can't remember how much, but I know it cost 40p for a hot chocolate at the services at 5 in the morning and the West German football team were also in the services on their way back from beating Wales in a Euro 1980 qualifier.  I only recognised them from the tracksuits.  I didn't know who they were.  I bet the present international football teams don't stop at the services for a bacon bun and a ripoff coffee.

We got to see all the sights of Paris.  As well as the Eiffel Tower, we went to the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre and Sacre Coeur.  I got terrified on the top of the Arc de Triomphe because I thought I might fall off, with the top being open, and even though the Eiffel Tower is a lot higher and you can feel it sway in the wind, it's all closed in so you can't fall off and that was okay.  I also saw the Mona Lisa and I was surprised how small it was.  We did also get driven round Paris at night on the Wally Arnold bus and got to see it all lit up.

One night in the hotel the teachers all went off to the bar to get hammered with the bus drivers and they left us unattended and we were running around the corridors of the hotel throwing fig biscuits at each other, and some of the girls were doing handstands against the wall and showing their knickers.  I'd never seen a fig biscuit before and having tried one at a later time I can see why they were getting thrown about rather than eaten.  They're horrible. 

And I shared a room with Richard Sharp and Andrew Greenwood, and we had bedside tables with lights in and I didn't see Andrew for about 5 years after that and the next time I did he was riding down Garforth Main Street on a bike with a green mohican (haircut, not a person).

At the time I took it all for granted, but now I marvel at the organisational skills of teachers, for taking a group of small children to a foreign country and taking us round all the sights of Paris.  I don't even like looking after small children while their parents are in the loo.