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I had a totally different plan for today’s newsletter but have scrapped it in favour of something more on topic. Here in the UK, we have had bad news about the virus. I think Northern Ireland is the only part of the UK that isn’t changing its rules. In most parts of the UK, any of the restrictions has been severely limited or cancelled altogether. The outpouring of emotion and anger here has been overwhelming. The levels of anxiety have rocketed as people have made tough decisions about whether to flee and go to family or stay put and face a much diminished Christmas. Many more people will be facing their very first Christmas on their own and I know that includes readers of this newsletter.
I’m lucky to live near my support bubble so I should be fine to spend the day with them as planned but watching the news last night made my stomach clench. Anxiety settled on my chest and my mouth went dry. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take, I thought to myself. I mean, seriously when is this ever going to end?
I have decided in the interests of cheering myself - and everyone else - up, to tell the story of my worst ever Christmas, in the hope it makes you feel better because it really could be worse.
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It started on Christmas eve in 2011. As is tradition with my group of friends, we met in a cosy pub in the afternoon to do some serious day time drinking, present sharing and to have some general merriment. This time was a little different as I was meeting my ex-boyfriend later in the evening for an Indian. I happily knocked back the gin and tonics knowing I would be filling my belly with lots of food in a few hours. These first few hours were great, only slightly tainted by the level of nerves I was feeling. This would be the first time I would see the love of my life since he broke my heart into smithereens. I was actually meant to see him a few nights before but he had missed his flight from the country where he was now living and so had had to cancel last minute, suggesting Christmas eve as an alternative. Even thinking about how nervous I felt makes my stomach churn. We have all been there. The first meeting with the ex after the break up. Why I thought Christmas eve was the night to do it is beyond me, but anyway there I was medicating myself with gin and mentally preparing myself when he texts to say he is having dinner with his family and will meet me after. Shit, I thought, no Indian. I was already pretty drunk and knew I needed food. Unfortunately, the pub had stopped serving food so I just carried on drinking, the nerves building.
I went to meet him and honestly can’t remember this part but I do remember being in another cosy pub with him watching me eat a scotch egg with chutney and a packet of crisps, which was the only thing that pub had. Those in the UK will know that scotch eggs have been the topic of debate recently as the Covid rules meant we could only drink in a pub if we ate a substantial meal and there was a big silly argument about whether a scotch egg counted as a substantial meal. Every time the subject came up, this vivid memory of me drunk eating a scotch egg with my ex-boyfriend looking on has come to mind. Reader, I can confirm that a scotch egg is definitely not a substantial meal.
After my “meal”, we ended up in a pub called The Nags Head which has a tiny interior but large beer garden. It’s the place to go at the end of the night and where everyone ends up on Christmas eve. You always see people you haven’t seen for years in the Nags Head on Christmas eve. It’s like one massive reunion. By now I was absolutely steaming, having drunk so much on an empty stomach. It was definitely time to call it a night.
Outside the pub, I leant on ex as he suggested we head to his mum’s house so I could “book a taxi and have somewhere warm to wait”. Of course, that isn’t actually what he was inviting me back to his for but I agreed and we held hands as we walked the mile or so to his mum’s place. (She was staying elsewhere). It was in the living room of his mum’s tiny house that my head began really spinning He handed me a beer and instead of drinking it I started to fall asleep so he took me upstairs. In the little bathroom at the top of the stairs I suddenly projectile vomited everywhere. Everywhere apart from the actual toilet. My memories are hazy but in my mind, it was like a scene from the exorcist. Absolutely horrific. Like a blood bath. That’s one of the last things I can remember of the evening.
The next morning – actual Christmas day – I woke up totally naked in his mum’s bed and several missed calls from my own mum on my phone. I had never once in my life stayed at a boy’s house on Christmas eve. I had always made it home so I could wake up early on Christmas morning and do all our family traditions. The only Christmas I had spent away from home had been the one before where I had been in South Korea with the same guy. This was the first Christmas home after my 14 months abroad. It was meant to be special.
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I called my mum and lied, saying I had stayed at my friend Kate’s house because I couldn’t get a taxi and asked if she could she pick me up from the Spar shop nearby. I thanked the Christmas gods and capitalism that Spar was actually open and rushed in to get a full fat can of coke hoping that some much-needed sugar would stave off the hangover. If only. I managed to stay upright just long enough to open my presents and then had to excuse myself to go back to bed. My aunt, uncle and cousins arrived and I slid downstairs to greet them before apologetically crawling back upstairs. Then it came time for the Christmas dinner. My parents were stressed because I am actually usually the one to cook the Christmas dinner in my family (with my dad’s help) and instead I had my head in the toilet. I forced myself downstairs, took one look at the beautiful meal in front of me, wretched and ran back upstairs to the loo. I only perked up around 5pm just in time to play a game of Pictionary and nibble on a little food before our guests had to leave. I can’t describe the level of shame I felt. Christmas is a big deal in our family and my mum had been so excited and I totally ruined the day because I decided to get wasted and go home with my ex-boyfriend.
There you have it. Right now things are shit and awful and terrible but at least you’re not waking up naked in your ex-boyfriend’s mum’s bed with sick in your hair, right? This is what my friend believes anyway. She was the one who convinced me this morning to tell this shameful story as a way to make everyone feel better and she threw in one of her own: her worst Christmas happened when she had a one night stand on Christmas eve after knocking her head badly against the edge of the bar. The next morning, she woke up with a huge swelling on her head and had to spend the day in bed with concussion. Not ideal.
Nevertheless, I don’t want people to think I am being heartless. I know things are really hard right now and people are struggling. I saw a few things on social media that may or may not make you feel better:
Whatever, you have decided to do for the festive period, please know there will be no judgement from me about it. I am sending you the biggest hug and lots of love and hope you’re OK. If you are struggling, please reach out to loved ones or support services for help. Here’s the Samaritans and some resources from Rethink. And Whatsapp have put together this list of helplines for other countries.
For those spending their first Christmas alone, here’s a nice article by a former colleague that I shared last year. Obviously, it’s a bit different when being alone is being forced on you and you have also spent most of the year on your own, but still, there are some ideas for how to make it nice.
Merry Christmas and a happy new year from me to you.
Lots of love,
Nicola
Twitter: @Nicola_Slawson | Instagram: @Nicola_Slawson
What caught my attention
Three life-changing conversations: 'It made me understand I am not a dirty word’
This article isn’t about being single but I wanted to share it anyway because I thought the stories were beautifully written and also because this paragraph stuck out to me about radical honesty: “A single parent, she had always tried to do her best by us, but despite her efforts our upbringing at times felt chaotic and difficult. I often felt resentful of her lack of income, and her struggle to present us as middle class. Another source of tension was her recent embrace of “radical honesty”, inspired by the US therapist Brad Blanton’s book of the same name. This new interest of my mum’s was both amusing and irritating to me and my siblings. Why did she need to do a course to learn how to be honest? It didn’t occur to me until afterwards how hard being radically honest truly is, especially as a woman; there was the risk of being judged negatively, and the possible rejection.”
‘I was running to adventure – but away from myself’: lessons from a life on the move
Although I haven’t moved around as much as the writer of this, it still rang a lot of bells. For a while, I had a habit of moving every year or two. Over the course of one year in 2013/14 when I was really struggling with money, I moved five times. Part of the reason I resisted the urge to move back to Shrewsbury was that London still felt temporary and therefore still an adventure. It’s hard the let that mentality go. The writer of this article sums that feeling up here: “And when I moved into this house, the first thing I did was buy a mattress and a bed frame – bronze, linear, minimalist. I am staying here, I thought. I am ready to commit. I had calmed down; I had situated myself in the world. All that time, I thought I was racing around to nowhere in particular but I was acquiring knowledge and experience along the way. I could revisit the questions of my youth with a different kind of authority: which risks are worth it? What could possibly be gained by settling down right now?”
How to embrace the Christmas season alone
Here are some practical tips for those spending Christmas alone from The Telegraph. Here’s one of the case studies talking about her first Christmas alone: “I decided to make it really special for myself. I bought myself some amazing presents as well as making sure that my kids had left me something under the tree so that I had lots of things to open. I cooked myself the most lovely lunch of a lobster starter, roast duck and all trimmings and trifle dessert and watched exactly what I wanted to on the TV — Coronation Street and It’s A Wonderful Life. Although it hadn’t been my choice to spend the day alone I had a fabulous time.”
The lowdown
If you have enjoyed this newsletter this year, you can buy me a coffee as a way to say thank you. Here’s the link to my Ko-Fi. I’d really appreciate it. Or better still you could subscribe!
If you would like to read a heartwarming story that might make you believe there is good in this world, I wrote this article for The Observer about a hotel who has housed homeless people since March.
I had lots of good feedback about the gift guide I did. Here’s the direct link if you want to share it with anyone.
I was going to give myself some time off and pause everyone’s subscriptions for this newsletter but given the news being so bleak I have decided there will be newsletters for the next two weeks but they will be mini ones and a little different.
Don’t forget, there is a thriving Facebook community group attached to this newsletter. The group is closed so do answer all the questions in order to be allowed in. Lots of people in the group are spending Christmas alone, so do consider joining even if only for the holidays.
I got a bit angry on Twitter the other day and it got quite a lot of attention. I would love to see more empathy for people who live differently to the status quo:
About me
For those who don’t know, I’m Nicola Slawson, a freelance journalist who lives in Shropshire, UK. If you would like to support what I do, please consider subscribing to be a paid supporter of The Single Supplement. If you would prefer to make a one-off contribution, you can also buy me a coffee, here’s the link to my Ko-Fi page. Follow me on Instagram and Twitter.
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