‘Tis the Preseason

I’m sitting here listening to a jazzy instrumental elevator music version of “I’ll be home for Christmas” that I awesomely somehow own. Why would I be doing such a thing? I guess I’m just in that kind of Christmasy mood. To be honest, this is old news…I’ve been sneaking the odd Christmas carol almost since that first freak snowfall Oxford had that lasted for about three seconds. Usually I’m morally opposed to family members and radio stations and department stores piping out festive tunes as soon we’ve all finished gorging ourselves on Halloween candy, but for some reason this year I’m really getting into the spirit of things. It might be because Thanksgiving a non-issue for Brits (although I did have a very pleasant T. dinner provided by the caring LMH staff), or maybe it’s because the shops don’t have a lawsuit on their hands every time they play “Hark! The herald angels sing” (which means less “Christmas Shoes”…although, strangely, they count that Donnie Darko version of “Mad World” as a Christmas song? Explain?), or just possibly it’s because – as evidenced by these entries so far – the UK can do no wrong in my rose-tinted view; regardless, I’ve got Christmas fever.

I won’t go so far as to say that Oxford – and the rest of the UK – hasn’t bought into the commercialism of the holidays. By day, the main streets are full of shoppers and buskers and people dressed in funny costumes handing out flyers and, of course, Christmas songs. But once the sun sets (at 4pm), the decorative lights go on over the streets, twinkling in the cold, misty air, and it feels a bit less materialistic. One evening, I was walking through town on my way to a sparkly social dinner (with orange chocolate mousse! and mulled wine!), when I stumbled into some kind of techno parade. It was very surreal-looking – a dark, swirling crowd, and these slow, still stilt-walkers wearing glowing white costumes, followed by children carrying lanterns. They’d also hung some kind of massive planetarium above Broad Street on cranes, and there’s a large tree strung with white lights. No ice rink yet, but I’m still hoping. Meanwhile, up in Norham Gardens, LMH has her own Christmas tree in the quad, which makes me feel all bubbly. It’s a Charlie Brown kind of tree, listing to one side, and possibly planted into the pavestones, but it’s got bright blue lights on it, so that, “when it’s dark and you can’t actually see the tree, it looks quite pretty.” The rector of the chapel also appears to be supervising some kind of massive operation to bring as much outdoors indoors, and everywhere you look along the route from the front entrance to college to the chapel, there are bits of pine needles on the ground that must have fallen off all the greenery that is now adorning the altar, pews, etc. And, lest the pagans who prefer to eat than worship feel left out, there is also a small tree in the balcony above the dining hall, which on Friday afternoon was being installed along with a series of barrels? Ye olde Yuletide barrel?

Eighth week at Oxford is really just devolving into a series of Christmas parties and carol services, which is bad news for me, who hasn’t actually started that one last essay for Developmental. Still, I’ve been to two different CU socials (one of which lead to my precipitous engagement…congratulations are in order), I’ve painted my fingernails snowflake silver, and I’ve amassed all of my red and green clothing items. I’m ready. (Also, I’ve got that “snowball sweater.” You know the one.) I kicked off the week with a spontaneous trip to London along with the law students in order to see the Magna Carta and other human rights documents. And also to shop. I submit that both of those actions are appropriately Christmas-themed. And may I also say that I love London. In addition, I’ve shopped around Oxford for some Christmas presents for friends…yes, I ended up buying some things for myself as well…and for a bop outfit. Last night’s Christmas bop had a tricky theme (XXXmas/Santa and his Ho Ho Hos…some things are universal), but I ended up fashioning a fairly successful skirt and hat combo out of wrapping paper for a Christmas cracker costume. Crackers being those tube-shaped packages that pop open with a bang and contain a cheap little toy and paper crown. I decided against the “pull me” tag, although that would have fit in nicely with the theme. Hm. Anyway, I was hardly overdoing it with the paper skirt…there were presents, and reindeer, and Christmas trees, and quite a few people not wearing much more than tinsel, and an overwhelming percentage of men in very tiny red dresses, much to the consternation of poor old Texas-bred Pentagon John. He bore it like a gentleman, true to form.

So that’s eighth week, and it’s not even Monday. Three or four more Carol services, two more fancy dinners, and in one week I’ll be getting on a plane to return to America for a bit more than a month, to repeat the whole Christmas process. Which is probably the strangest thing of all. Eight weeks is such a short time…I can’t believe I’m almost done! I do miss you all though, and it will be good to come back home and have a turkey dinner complete with cranberry sauce. And then before I know it, I’ll be jetting back across the pond, to stay until June…ah! It’s coming! Although, so is Christmas.