Second Christmas in Many Media

Second Christmas is the highlight of the festive season. I have been close friends with much the same people for over ten years and every year between Christmas Day and New Year's we get together for our own Second Christmas, cooking up a huge roast, playing games and swapping Secret Santa gifts. There are also a ridiculous amount of empty Port bottles by the end of the evening.

This year, I documented the occasion in six different media:

1) Photography

2) Drawing

This is about as accurate as it gets

3) Mime

4) Poetry

Twas two days after Christmas,

And all through the Castle,

There were nibbed for all,

And Joe ate them, the rascal.

Mulled wine on the hob,

And far more Port than sense,

We were pissed before turkey,

The sprouts were immense.

As we sat down to dinner,

And pulled all our crackers,

'Thank you, dear chefs!'

Came the cry from the slackers.

We all gathered round,

For presents from "Santa",

The secrets came out,

In the midst of the banter.

In the dark early morning,

We said our farewells,

But we'll be back next year,

To jingle those bells.

(S. Taylor, C. Jayasinghe, G. Robinson, B. Jones, et al)

5) Song

The Second Christmas Song - Luke Alexander, Stuart Taylor, Ben Jones


6) The Movie

(Make it HD and fullscreen that bad boy)


Second Christmas 2011 from Stuart Taylor on Vimeo.

Christmas

I've recently just realised something about Christmas for me.

When I was younger, almost every year we used to go to my Nana's (Dad's mum) house for Christmas. Even though my Dad's side of the family is far more disparate, small and estranged than my Mum's, there was always enough of us to gather around her big table every year. The people might be different every year but there was always a big feast.

My Nana had a decent sized house in Beckenham - we even lived with her for a couple of years - so a whole mix of extended family folk could gather comfortably to eat, relax and watch christmas episodes of every single soap opera. The meals were always huge at Nana's. It was like suppertime at Hogwarts, with dishes stacked beyond their physical limits, more potatoes than Ireland could devour in a year and gravy to drown the Titanic. The only christmas photos I remember from my young childhood were in Nana's living room, with decorations across the walls and ceiling, fake snow on the windows and a great many faces I haven't seen in years.

Nana died when I was 16. We had one final Christmas in her house without her before moving on. And Christmas hasn't really been the same since. I'm not saying it's been bad - it's still a lovely day of being together, giving gifts, eating stupid amounts of food, playing games and snoozing on the sofa. But Nana defined Christmas. To me, that's what Christmas was, and since then it's always felt like...an imitation of Christmas.

Maybe it's like when your dog dies and you get a new dog. You love the new dog just as much, but it's a different dog and whenever you picture the concept of dog ownership, that first dog will always stick in your mind, because he was your childhood dog. He gave you the very concept of "dog". I think because Nana died right at the point of me transition from child to adult, that cemented her Christmas as the canonical Christmas in my mind.

So here's to you, Nana. I'll always think of you at Christmas.