According to the television adverts, households around the country will be hosting Christmas parties. Paint me cynical, but I have my doubts. Christmas is stressful enough without having to lump the organisation of a party on top of it. It’s stressful enough without having to lump going to a party on top of it; or having to think of an excuse not to.
In fairness, the M&S Christmas advert appears to accept this reality. Dawn French (who seems to live on the same street as Paddington the Bear) only gets her party organised because a magic pixie version of herself does all the hard work. And the people who arrive are, by her admission, total strangers. Dawn’s real friends are probably running around a real M&S desperately searching for chutney and AA batteries. And when they get home, exhausted and drenched by the rain, they’ll vow not to leave the house for a week.
They won’t be able to keep this vow, of course. None of us can. Sooner or later, you’ll have to get milk or walk the dog. And there’s visits. Rather than arranging parties, every Irish household has to plan out what relations to visit and when. You’ll drive down there, get served turkey and Christmas pudding and Christmas cake – your hosts acting like such things don’t exist in the part of the country you live in – and then drive back up, whereupon you renew your vow not to leave the house for a week.
And if you do manage to stay indoors, even if it’s for a few days, what are you doing? Working out in your home gym? Playing the violin? Of course not. You’re watching television.
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Apart from having to witness Dawn French stuck in a hellish cycle of Christmas parties, watching a lot of TV during this time of the year can produce some domestic tensions. If you opt to rewatch all five seasons of Breaking Bad while your partner cooks, cleans and entertains the kids, that can be problematic: but just as tricky is the scenario where they walk into the TV room, glance at the screen and say, accusingly: you’re watching that without me?
We do have shows that we watch together. Not to brag, but we watch a show together every night
Television infidelity is, apparently, a real thing, and can be a major cause of door slamming and huffs all year round.
Herself was at work one day when she mentioned to some colleagues that she and I have our own TV shows, which we watch separately to each other. Cue a sharp intake of breath from the colleagues, quickly followed by much arm-flapping as they desperately tried to appear nonjudgmental and accepting. It quickly turned out that – while it was absolutely fine for us for us to act this way – it isn’t something they do in their homes. For them, TV watching is strictly couples-only: and, from their general tone on the subject, would remain so.
[ Seán Moncrieff: Is it normal to have a teddy as an adult?Opens in new window ]
It may have been paranoia, but afterwards, Herself felt people were staring at her, even surreptitiously pointing. She did explain: we do have shows that we watch together. Not to brag, but we watch a show together every night. Yet we also have a mutually fulfilling arrangement. If it’s new, and the first one or two episodes don’t grab us, we abandon it. But if one of us likes it and the other doesn’t, they are free to continue that televisual relationship by themselves. No jealousy, and no judgment. We don’t think it’s weird.
On top of that, we have separate shows that we never watch together. She has costume dramas. I have Star Trek (which, as Herself likes to point out, is a costume drama in space). And we’re very happy with this.
What’s disappointing is that, given the reaction Herself got at work, we’re reticent about describing how we do things in polite company. But there must be others. I bet Dawn French does it. When her house isn’t full of strangers.