Dreaming of a Perfect Christmas!

Come on, get out of your man-made tunnel and face me directly in the eye - there surely will not be a possible way of wigging out of this soon-to-be-asked question, unless a secret corner has not yet been discovered with my watchful, sea-blue eyes. If today's date has strangely 'slipped' from your mind or you are still getting over last night's dreadful offering of so-and-so programmes on TV, one only has to count all of their ten fingers and one of their needed-to-be-cut toes in order to remember that Christmas is just eleven days away from our desperate reach; and having recently caught up with my old, cringe-worthy Disney DVDs surrounding the heavily commercialized holiday, I'm absolutely ready to hold a glass half-filled with pure pineapple juice and spread the festive cheer! Yet, as I feel utterly compelled to ask, are you dreaming of a pitch-perfect, easy-peasy Christmas like almost everybody else across nations and continents around the world?

Maybe it isn't entirely my cosy-as-home place to be placing my attention over the length of time it takes for an immensely large turkey - which, in my opinion, gives the startling impression of weighing as much as many people put on the scales over the festive period - to defrost before being cooked in the oven typically on the night of Christmas Eve; I probably won't have to give much thought about roasting a bacon-covered turkey for many years yet, but as my interest for all things culinary-related has steadily grown over the past year, I guess that discussing the Christmas dinner fascinates me somehow. Besides, Christmas just wouldn't feel the same in my family without a lovingly prepared turkey taking centre stage on our dinner plates, despite a near-disaster occurring with the oven - which happened to break down and threaten to place everything in jeopardy - on Christmas Eve several years ago.

Having been thrown into a deeply unwanted and perilous situation on one highly special occasion, perhaps a part of myself wishes to appreciate all of the effort - and the mouth-watering smells which waft into my awaiting-to-be-amazed nose into the living room - which goes into producing and creating an once-a-year-only meal that is still spoken about in months to come: how could such a potential catastrophe not leave a mark upon myself when the memory remains as clear as an expensive bottle of luxury mineral water inside my mind? That year, it proved to me that, sometimes, you simply have to make do with what you've got and use it to your advantage; also, the visit from the repairman in the week leading up to the big day has become somewhat of an annual tradition, albeit a demand for a check inside the dustier-than-my-bedroom oven is often not warranted. A perfect Christmas, I soon realized, doesn't necessarily suggest that you have to follow countless examples which have already been made in order to have a great time - i.e. a portrayal of Christmas time being set in an idyllic, pleasantly-presented village where all of the family meet up with one another and sing carols without giving the evils to a particularly detested uncle or whoever and it actually snows, resembling those jealousy-provoking festive cards which you admire and sigh over every single Christmas, is a misrepresentation of the holiday which ought to be banished into a locked metal box straight away. However, snowfall doesn't quite compare to a troublesome oven wiping away jolly spirits on one of the holiest days of the year, does it?

Whatever may be aired on the television over the next few weeks - from films you've seen and nodded off during previous holidays over a thousand times to more modern, yet increasingly dull TV specials which provokes a hidden yearning to be rid of an electronic screen until an abrupt airing of your not-so-secret guilty pleasure grabs your attention from the messy bowl of shelled mixed nuts - none of it will take away my child-like excitement over the impending holiday, which seems to take me back to the days of snatching a chocolate coin or two from a bowl whenever my mum's eyes aren't in my leopard print-donning direction and babbling about my must-have present to whoever will dare to listen to me.

This year, I've set my easily-won-over heart upon the famous Babyliss Curl Secret, which is already a massive hit in the hair-dressing industry and has reached a numerous legion of followers within a few months of being released to the public, which I firmly believe will put a stop to my oh-so-sad days of purchasing so-called 'praised' curling wands and rollers, the lacklustre curls of which barely manage to last a whole day, let alone transforming into a mane of beach-perfect waves the following morning. I literally landed on top of the moon when I grabbed my hands upon the curl secret at a temporary, heart-stopping price during a promotion a few weeks ago where the price was dropped significantly, delighting not only my bargainista-titled self but also my parents, both of whom encouraged me to snap up the offer and rid away their worries of my splashing out extravagantly elsewhere. Well, I'm not so sure about whether my dad, whose hair is definitely not long enough to be curled (and, thinking about it, the same fact applies to my hair-gelled-to-perfection brother, too), felt as eager as a recently charged Duracell battery to add another hair-related gadget to my massive collection, which has been heaving with an extreme lack of space since I got my first curling wand almost three Christmases ago. Still, as long as I'm guaranteed to swap my Kim Kardashian-straight hair into a showstopping mane of enviable curls on Christmas Day, what more could I want?

Apart from the greatly looked forward to Christmas lunch and piles upon piles of lavishly wrapped presents beneath tinsel-decorated tree, spending time with loved ones and friends at this time of year is one of the biggest parts which signifies perfection in our light bulb-reflecting eyes - if one can pull off a successful party without a hitch and receives praises from all attendees, a fault would be unable to lie amongst the dimmed scented candles and rows of canapés lying in their magnificent glory before the merry guests, all of whom are revelling in the euphoric atmosphere and bonding with fellow people sitting beside them. Without family and friends participating in the festivities, the true meaning of Christmas, where others come before your needs - a message obviously forgotten during a flash sale at your favourite shop, when the yearning to spoil yourself rotten on a designer pair of shoes seems a greater need than getting a well-meaning gift for a fellow person - is therefore lost, which is quite sad indeed. Opening presents and taking pictures with my family on Christmas Day is a tradition which signals all of the perfect qualities I consistently look for in everyday life - happiness, peace and appreciation, the most meaningful emotion of all. To experience gratitude for all of the wonderful presents and joys which I'm a part of, I repay my dues via spending some beloved quality time with the people whom I love best and whose company I constantly revel in; it is one message which I have never dared to forget at Christmas and the meaning behind it becomes clearer to me as each year passes by.

So, I could be having a perfect day when a growling kitten hides behind the TV sockets as my hands are stuck in a sticky bowl of glacé cherries and my brother pleads to the sky above for the curious creature to have mercy on his beloved Xbox 360 console - and this applies all year around, not simply one day where many people go out of their way to play the Oscar-winning role of a heavenly parent, sibling or friend over the period of twenty-four hours. Even if one of the kittens makes a bold move to escape from his basket over the next few days, my euphoria won't disappear into the chilly winter air because I have already found my perfect slice of heaven - just enough to make this Christmas the best one ever!