The Christmas Countdown: Reflections from a Quiet Drive to Heidelberg

Just the other morning, we took a drive downtown to purchase meat in Heidelberg. It was slightly drizzling outside, and from inside the quiet car, I could hear the engine humming as I looked out through the rain-splattered window. A light fog made visibility a bit difficult, worsened by the warm breaths of the passengers inside fogging up the glass.?

I couldn’t help but admire the vast green landscape and the heavily clouded, deep sky hovering above as we followed the stretch of grey tar road (surprisingly free of potholes)?leading to our favourite butchery in the small, quiet town outside Jozi. I noticed the heavy traffic on the N3 towards Durban – delivery trucks, cars, buses, taxis – you name it. It’s a busy period, I thought to myself, with people heading homeward-bound for some much-needed rest after what has undoubtedly been a long and exhausting year, 2024.?

My trip sparked a few thoughts as I sat there idly waiting to reach my destination.

Before the year ends, there’s Christmas, a day most sensible people want to spend with their loved ones. For those who cherish the occasion know the countdown to Christmas has officially begun; just a few days remain, in fact.?Of course, it may not be everyone’s cup of tea. Not everyone sees a reason to celebrate the day. Well, some of us do, and it remains a wonderful tradition. Other dates may be less fortunate, but for me, this day matters. It personally means plenty of good food and warm, caring, intimate company. It’s like a party in most homes – at least for those with the means and access to family and good food.?

Now, to be clear, I don’t celebrate the day because of the so-called birth of Christ. Growing up (whether at church, home, or school) I was made to believe Baby Jesus was born on this day. Funny, isn’t it? We throw the biggest ‘birthday party’ of the year for someone we sometimes forget to invite, Christ Himself. Was He even born on this day? Who’s to say? I’m no clergyman, so don’t come for me. Alright, alright, I may have digressed.?

To return to our original point about people heading home for what will hopefully be a restful, cheerful, and welcoming season: how do I know that Christmas festivities are looming, or have already arrived? It’s not just the Christmas tree or the occasional decorations in shops and homes – those red, hanging, flowery-looking ornaments – that signal the season. In truth, each person holds their own unique (and sometimes even melancholic) memories of the sights, sounds, and traditions that define Christmas for them.?Even our calendars and minds – filled with specific historic reflections, references, and spoken words – serve as informal reminders. These thoughts, often shared during whiskey-soaked conversations, are discussed with fanfare and anticipation as the season approaches.?

On a more personal note, I can tell that Christmas (or holiday) festivities are upon us when I notice my belly expanding. It’s not just the daily stress we all endure, good food, or even something diabetic-inducing. No, the real culprit is the strong, old-aged liquids, especially in December. But that’s not the point. Food certainly plays a role in my bulging stomach, particularly the copious amounts of red meat I consume – whether cooked, roasted, or braaied. Hence, the recent trip.

That’s when I know: Ke Dezember, Duke.?

Remember my tale about the dustbin? Say yes! Well, if not, just look into my profile and find the essay, you lazy bird! What I’m getting at is this: my dustbin is always filled with all sorts of rubbish throughout the year, but come December, it overflows with a bulging mass of trash.

That’s when again I know: Ke Dezember, Duke.?

Back to the joy of Christmas. It’s one of those festive periods when we feel the need to let go of stress over things beyond our control or tasks that seem Herculean to even contemplate solving. One such realisation is that I can’t afford that precious collectible bottle of Glenlivet after a good meal, or some rare brandy I’ve spotted in an exquisite bottle store tucked away in a corner of Melrose Arch or Bedford Centre. Either way, these collector’s items are hardly any sensible person’s first choice during the festivities, but I still enjoy the thought of them. Since I can’t afford them.?

Christmas time. It’s the silly season for some. I know it is, partly because money is spent on random, unnecessary things. But ‘unnecessary’ becomes a subjective term under the circumstances. After all, one might argue that the year has been hectic, even stressfully so, and we deserve a reprieve, something soothing, like a bit of shopping therapy, or just something to make us feel at ease with ourselves for having persevered and seen the year to a close. A celebratory mood of sorts, yes.?

It's December, so let's end the year on a gift-giving note. A Christmas card for me, if you're into that sort of thing, would be just perfect. Handwritten, of course. Not some typed nonsense. If you're up for it, write a note saying something kind or precious about how I've been a good boy in your eyes this year. Let’s make it all about me, shall we? While you're at it, why not send the surprise gift you've been wanting to send? Or maybe that delicious pork belly recipe you’re saving for Christmas? Or anything tasty delivered via Mr Delivery, alongside a fine bottle of Stellenbosch's best. I won’t say no to any of that. Wine or brandy will do – your choice, but make up your mind soon!?

In fact, since I know you're someone who’s likely familiar with this humble scribe's not-so-expensive (and quite modest) tastes, why not make it a habit to send me something at least once a quarter? Or even once a month in 2025, if your heart so pleases.?

I kid, of course. Merry Christmas in advance, and best of luck in the coming year.

Duke out.

Until the New Year begins!