MIDSUMMER CHRISTMAS

End of term round these parts, and boy does being married to a teacher feel like having a second Christmas.

Hand-drawn cards got pulled out of sparkly bags, boxes of Dairymilk, little bottles of Prosecco and homemade gin, necklaces and bookmarks, neatly wrapped packets of fudge and jars of sweets. Ding dong merrily and indeed on high.

It’s not just the teachers either. We’ve been to Sainsbury’s multiple times this week looking for little gifts for the TAs, the children, and, wonderfully, the school cleaner.

“Do you like Pimms?” asked Sammy just now, sliding a fresh bottle of the fruity gin from a slender wine-shaped gift bag.

“I think so,” I said. Next out was a bottle of Chenin Blanc. I like that too.

So here we are, me and ‘The World’s Best Teacher’ surrounded by the compliments of the season.

When did this start, this Midsummer Christmas? I don’t remember it in the 80s. There must be a lot of pressure on kids and families these days. And what do you do if you’ve a huge family and not much money? How do you shell out for your teachers and classmates? And what happens if you don’t?

“This one’s for you,” said my doubtlessly hard-working, overstretched, wonderful significant-other. By the way I’m not saying teachers don’t deserve it; I can’t quite believe the hours and effort they put into their work, and compared to what I do, the stress levels are seriously off-the-chart. Trust me, they deserve a thank you at the very least.

Sammy placed a chocolate orange on the table and tapped it as if to indicate that even I, someone who has barely contributed to the school year in any way at all, could still be part of Midsummer Christmas. I smiled. Well, after all - it is the season, I thought. Fa la la la la.