nicolette kaponis

The dismalness that was 2016 has been well documented. The terrible events of the year – Brexit, the US Presidential election result, the passing of Bowie/Prince/Alan Rickman, Aleppo, the murder of Jo Cox, to name just the smallest selection of said terribleness – have been well documented in the news, Twitter, Facebook and every conversation, ever. Even while I write this, the horrifying events in Berlin continue to unfold. Yep, 2016 was the worst right up until the end. Except…

The sun rises at eight in the morning and disappears, much too soon, at four in the afternoon. The temperature hovers below ten degrees, though sometimes just over. Colourful lights adorn every tree, street, lamppost and storefront. Warming mulled wine is offered at every corner pub. It’s Christmas and I’m definitely not in Melbourne anymore. For all of my thirty-something years, this time of year has usually involved bright sunshine, taking solace in air-conditioned shops because of soaring temperatures, cold meats and seafood, and even colder beers. (Okay, yes, I’m from Melbourne and more often than not Christmas Day itself can also involve rain, hail, icy winds and general mayhem but I’m using artistic licence here so just go with it.) The much more traditional image of Christmas is, of course, white, cold, dark.

It wasn’t so long ago (five months to be exact) when I was living a comfortable life with a comfortable salary. My income was such that I didn’t have to think twice about buying things like food and electricity. Most people would call these the good old days. I, on the other hand, am quite happy to see these days in my rear-view mirror. Gone is the complacency that comes with stability! I for one love the thrill of walking into Tesco so I can play the ‘what can I buy for dinner with the last two pounds in my bank account’ game. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are days when I do remember my full-time remuneration with a sense of acute longing because I do live in London. There is a LOT of stuff to do/see/buy here. There is a lot of EXPENSIVE stuff to do/see/buy here. But when you stop buying stuff because you have to, you do realise just how much you don’t really need. Sure, I still walk down Oxford Street and wish I could buy an item of clothing from somewhere other than Primark or H