Blue Christmas

1:30am, 24.12.22

A few years ago, after I was an alcoholic but before I was a drug addict, just before the nightmare of the modern plague, I met a girl at work. She was sweet and funny and charming in a self aware way. She had a boyfriend but she wasn’t altogether happy. We had chemistry, and I fell for her within days. For some time I was convinced that she felt the same. I would stay up late trying to sleep in vain loss to the fantasies inside my head of a life together. I’d listen to all those songs that hurt in a comfortable way and obsess over what I felt certain was meant to be. Nothing ever came of it. She didn’t feel the same way, I only thought she did. Recently I’ve found myself listening to all those same songs again. I’ve been feeling the same things for the first time this side of history and I cannot sleep for thoughts of what could be if I was just a little closer to the best version of myself.

It’s been a tough winter this year. Work has been stressful and I’ve been on and off the wagon for weeks. This week I’ve had what feels like flu but had to work hour upon hour to give people their own happy christmases. It’s been a while since I felt this burnt out and I’m looking forward to going home to Suffolk in a few days to spend some family time around the fire (and the dinner table!). Whilst the year hasn’t been sans challenge, it has had it’s moments of hope and happiness. I’ve met great people, doubled my income, quit taking drugs, brought a bow (and arrows), invested money (comics count right?) and started to pave the way for the next eventful chapter.

Things aren’t always stable, nor comfortable but even when nights feel at their coldest I am reminded how important it is to have a positive mental attitude.

I have no idea what’s coming in the new year, and I don’t always have the best feeling about the future. I still worry that things will go downhill and I’m constantly aware of my innate ability to fuck things up fast. I know I need to stay as straight and narrow as possible, that I need to find ways of having fun that don’t involve copious amounts of alcohol. I have to stop gambling again and I need to lose weight (that lockdown middle has lingered a little too long). There are plenty of things I’ve been getting right, but if I want to be in a good place this time twelve months later I have to work on myself a little everyday.

Sometimes working on yourself can be as simple as getting up and having a shower; Going for a walk, cooking instead of ordering in. Sometimes taking care of yourself just means getting through the day. People seem to forget that a victory is a victory, no matter how small. So in light of having a PMA I’m going to try and focus on the little wins this week, instead of all those stressful moments that feel like big losses. Christmas in hospitality isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but it’s not completely without satisfaction.

I have friends who want to spend Christmas with me, that I’ve obviously had to let down. I have family who want to see me, and time I’d rather spend elsewhere in merrier ways, but this is my job and this is what I signed up for. So I’ll be down behind the bar at 8am on Christmas Day for the sake of everyone else’s happiness.

Cut. December 30th. 2am.

There’s a girl stood in front of the microphone, wearing bangs and blue eye shadow. She’s got a long skirt that tips the tops of her docs and a baggy jumper that hides her arse. She’s singing Arctic Monkeys with a husky twang that would have been a popular vocal style five years ago. She kind of looks like Maisie Peters. I’m stood by a wilting Christmas tree with a large on the rocks, and for a moment I think that I might be in love. Charlie shows me a message on his phone; his partner is letting him know that she’s home and she’s made up the bed in the spare room for me, with a clean towel for the morning. I find this very touching. I’m sad because I haven’t gone home to Suffolk, but I’m glad to be out of the house. Out of Milton Keynes.

I finished work on Tuesday night. When I woke up still sick on Wednesday I made the shit decision not to visit home. My Mum has just gotten over a bad case of covid and if I passed my bad chest onto her she’d likely kick the bucket; and I’m not in the mood to go suit shopping right now. I spent the first day wallowing in pity and booze then slept for twelve hours. When I got up Charlie had called me insistent on my visiting Northampton for the weekend. I resisted but gave in, and now here I am in his spare room having had a good night visiting several local watering holes and shaking hands with familiar faces. Tomorrow we have evening plans with ‘the boys’. Apparently Adam has a Murder mystery board game we’re all supposed to meet up and play (with ample booze to facilitate the inspection process).

So far my visit has been helpful. I’ve discussed various situations with my friends who have advised me against every mental whim I’ve been thus far entertaining. My troubles with love and profession have been put into perspective and I’m of a mindset now that I must make vast changes in the new year. My insane desire to jump right behind the nearest white picket fence has never seen me straight so far and the advice is that this time will be no different. I’m also acutely aware, sat in Charlie’s house now that if if I was earning the money I’m on now but I was here instead of there, I’d be much better off. I may need to call MK a failure and return to my old stomping ground.

Whilst I’ve been fantasising about many things and people, the reality is the same it always has been. I have some tough decisions to make in the next few weeks. For now however, I’ll be having a few drinks with my friends and seeing in the new year. Everything else can be dealt with next week!

I have had a blue Christmas, for better and for worse. What happens next is totally out for debate.

I’ll update this page in a couple of weeks if and when things become a little clearer. Whatever happens I’m only really hoping that the new year brings stability and comfort.

That is all for now.

-A