At this merry time of year, it is customary to engage in a few tried and trusted traditions, such as eating turkey, kissing under the mistletoe and being tolerant of relatives. However, having recently returned from the US again, and having had a little trouble sleeping until I had truly saturated my system with food and drink, I decided to attempt to resolve my insomnia by… counting sheep, of course. Where the bloody hell does this custom come from? Who was the first person who, upon experiencing a similar dilemma, not only dismissed other ideas but also hit upon the idea of counting jumping sheep? Not only did this person realise that it worked (for them, at least), but they were also capable of remembering this revelation in the morning. This must have then been the same person who, without presumably any hint of embarrassment, thought it was a good idea to tell other people about their eureka like discovery and their friends / family, far from being perturbed by this invention, remarked at what a wonderful trick they had discovered and proceeded to spread the gospel so that the rest of us poor sods could benefit from such wisdom.
Of course, certain elements of this custom are left to the individuals’ imagination, so the sheep may: jump from right to left, or not; be in 3D, or not; be in cartoon form, or not; etc. I’m sure psychologists could have a field day with the insight into our characters that could be drawn from analysing these personal variations, but the fundamental questions of who and why remain. They have a lot to answer for.
Which all got me thinking about other things to which we have become accustomed. Especially at Xmas, the pose factor relating to certain shopping bags is evident. No longer is it socially acceptable to partake in shopping activities without being gifted the customary poncey bag, complete with rope for a handle. Heaven forbid the social humiliation caused by returning from one’s shopping excursion with a plastic bag, one needs to walk proudly down the high street with as many little paper and rope numbers as possible. Of course, the fact that these bags can usefully be recycled as style accessories for the next few weeks is an added attraction and will, it is hoped, lead to the inevitable question of what you have been buying at such a venerable institution, so you can regale your, “oh, it’s funny you should mention it…”, once more. Admittedly, these bags are more environmentally friendly than the plastic bag, which is presumably the primary, if not sole, reason why the shops have supported this practice with such gusto in recent years, but I like the Scandinavian idea of taking your own bags shopping and then filling these, thereby reducing waste itself, and not merely the conundrum between trees and oil. But how would the retailers manage without the free advertising? I, for one, care deeply.
And as for the other customs most evident at this time of year: faking satisfaction at the receipt of certain inevitable gifts; receiving gifts that should not be seen by one’s grandmother; returning Xmas presents you don’t like / don’t fit; storing unreturnable Xmas presents to give as future presents; the annual phone conversation with relatives to say thank you for yet another present you didn’t want in the first place; and eating too much and not leaving room for pudding (or maybe that’s just me?). Then, at last, the feeling that, except for the turkey, Xmas is over again.
Which brings me to my final custom, that of new year resolutions. The radio this morning informed me that three quarters of us will make resolutions this year and that a third of these will have been broken before January 2nd. What wonderful strength of will we have. But then, perhaps, the custom is flawed by creating the false impression that the difficulties that will be caused by getting the date wrong for most of January mark a watershed that will allow us to make such drastic changes in our lives. Which, presumably, is the same reason why we also make resolutions when we get back from holidays, most of which, I guess, rarely make it past unpacking.
My new year’s resolution? I flirted with the idea of making a resolution not to make resolutions, but that proved far too confusing. So, I settled upon: To never let my alcoholic and / or food saturation levels fall far enough to warrant counting sheep again…
Happy New Year, everyone. Sleep well.
Posted December 30th 2003
Scholey.com 