This Christmas, I refuse to let the pandemic get me down - Christa Ackroyd

My mum, of course, cried. I couldn’t understand why. My father, himself a singer, was beaming from one side of his face to the other. I wasn’t world beating, but boy did I sing with gusto because I was singing for them.

Miss Telford also told me there are times in your life when you will be worried, times when you think you can’t do something, but if you try your best no matter what happens then you will have done yourself proud. I never forgot that moment or her advice.

And so this week I passed on the same words to our little five-year-old granddaughter Matilda, who was singing a solo at her school carol service. I now know how my mother felt. I wept like a baby. Never did Away in A Manger sound so sweet. Christmas for this family started that day.

Seven hours earlier we had picked up our eldest daughter and eldest granddaughter from Manchester Airport, where they had arrived from Sydney. There were tears, but again they were happy tears. Just as I am sure you will all shed some happy tears this year at Christmas time to be together again. But tears of joy, of grateful thanks, are always worth shedding.

So this week I refuse to be downhearted at what may or may not happen with this rotten pandemic. I refuse to be stressed about who thinks what about whom, especially the politicians, the anti-vaxxers and the doom and gloom merchants. I even refuse to be stressed about whether I have bought enough food or wrapped enough presents. What we have will be more than enough. What we give will be gratefully received. But then food and gifts are not what this festive period is all about anyway. It’s about family.

At the start of this pandemic I wrote that what was needed was time to reset, to adjust the pace of life and to re-evaluate what really matters. But I worry we have forgotten that along the way. I hope we are reminded of that this Christmas. So if, like the Queen, you have felt the need to cancel a big Christmas party just be glad at the smaller celebration you still have. If you feel nervous, as I know so many still do, think about how far we have come.

A year ago things were so much darker. The vaccine had only just begun its rollout. Now more than 20 million of us have received our boosters. And once again the country has responded to a call for volunteers to help keep us safe as our National Health Service continues to shine like a beacon. May we never take for granted all we are able to have for free because of their dedication and service.

So prioritise, not because Boris tells us to, but because we know who matters most to us and who we need to spend our time with, sometimes, like for us, for the first time in a very long time.

As I write this, three little girls connected for the first time in two years are putting on a show. They have borrowed make up and dragged out the glittering costumes from the dressing up box. Every sentence I write is interrupted by whispers and giggles as they plan their performance. No performance I ever see again will be as special. Because being together is priceless.

But we know that, don’t we?

I can’t tell you when this will be over. But think of what we have learned, think of all we have achieved. And as my family would also tell me, think of those far less fortunate than ourselves.

On Christmas Eve, my lovely Homeless Street Angels will not only provide a Christmas dinner and rucksacks stuffed with presents to rough sleepers in Yorkshire’s largest city, but will have delivered gifts and food parcels to those who have left their lives on the streets to live, often for the first time in years, in a home of their own. As one told us, never will he have had such a Christmas.

So my wish to all our readers is exactly the same. May we be thankful for all we do have without worrying about all we can’t have.

May we be reminded of Christmases of old when a stocking containing an apple and an orange, a selection box and a toy seemed like we had been given all the world; when the turkey lasted until Boxing Day and beyond; when we called on neighbours who were on their own; when Dad treated himself to a sweet sherry before lunch and mum made a weak snowball with a cherry on the top because ‘it’s Christmas’; when out came the lazy Susan before the Morecambe and Wise show groaning with nuts and Quality Street. And on the coffee table was a pack of dates with a plastic fork that were only eaten by Dad, who confessed only 20 years later he preferred sugared almonds. Those are memories that mean Christmas to me. You will have yours, too.

So this year, of all years let us concentrate on making new ones, memories not just for this Christmas but for years to come. May you have a joyful and peaceful one with those who matter most.