I never know where to begin when it comes to Christmas. It is a season of nostalgia and with a large dollop of hope I guess. Without wanting to sound like a Scrooge I don’t tend to buy many presents. This saves the mad rush to get trampled in some generic department store. I usually go to local lights switch ons and have always loved the singing of carols. There’s often a 

melancholic nature to them; glorious poetic verse like ‘In The Bleak Midwinter’. It takes me back to midnight mass at Holy Trinity all those years ago. 

Like me I’m sure many people will remember the same things. Well, okay, anyone over fifty! The excitement of buying special editions of TV and Radio Times to see which blockbusters would be airing. The joy of watching the festive episode of Morcambe & Wise. Dressing the tree. I can remember us having an antique robin that looked like it been attacked by a cat. Other old trimmings and fairy lights that never worked. I remember hearing my mum and dad playing Pong before they wrapped it. Being severely disappointed by THAT Evel Knievel stunt cycle toy. 

What I remember most about Christmas though is hospital visiting. I feel I need to rewind now and talk about my brother for a while without it getting too maudlin. My brother developed multiple sclerosis in his mid-twenties. There was no lead up; he just started having blackouts. He’d fall over when he was out walking. It took ages for him to be diagnosed by which time he needed a wheelchair to get around. His condition meant he was susceptible to chest infections so the winter months could be cruel. 

It's funny but we got to Christmas Eve once before the inevitable blue light admission. Usually though he would be admitted a week before, unable to breathe. It was the same routine: ICU, Ward 17 and then onto the Marden Hospital. I don’t really remember those days in great detail; it’s well over thirty years ago now. We’d take his gifts and then trudge back home to eat our turkey. Sometimes we’d eat with him. I still meet one of nurses who cared for him if we’re walking over the golf course at the same time. We catch up with everything and hug our best wishes. 

Despite his illness I can’t remember those days being filled with never ending gloom. Mum tried her best to make things as normal as possible and there was never a year where we didn’t make paper steamers together. I’d help when she baked mince pies. I use the word ‘help’ there loosely! As she got older I’d help hand deliver the Christmas cards to the people in Brierfield who she wouldn’t bump into. The route taken was influenced by the passing of time. Names no longer being in her address book. I said goodbye to my last ‘auntie’ last month. It seemed like an ending in many ways. 

I haven’t trimmed up in years bar a few candles. I chucked out our tree when I moved house over ten years ago and have made do with a miniature one or a poinsettia. This isn’t some reaction against commercialism or artificiality. It’s more that there is only me and I’m out a lot of the time. I haven’t much of a desire for glittery clutter! I can remember my mum stockpiling the

church’s Advent posters and passing on to friends. I don’t think she was trying to convert anyone she just liked seeing them in our neighbour’s front windows. 

I experience the magic of Christmas more through the joy of children. There’s still that wonder even though we live in such a troubling and cynical world. How they giddily react to Snow Queens and fox lanterns. All the fire and the illumination. Children’s awe at magic, and their laughter, is infectious. They still have that belief and playfulness that gets lost as we get older. That is the real shame for me. We need to get back there. More discos and ball pools for adults in Burnley would be my plea! 

So yeah I am no Scrooge, in fact I’d definitely put myself in the ‘Elf’ camp. I’ll meet up with the step side of the family on the day itself and play Guess Who type games. We’ll watch the King’s speech and Dr Who or whatever is on in the afternoon. Perhaps some cartoons. I’ll force myself to eat so much turkey it turns into a Guinness Book Of Records attempt. I’ll kid myself that I will burn it off later by walking along the canal. I may have a Snowball if I’m feeling decadent! 

The festive season will always be a time where I become wistful. I’ll never know what would have become of my brother. Sometimes I imagine, sometimes he remains in the Eighties. There was fifteen years between us in age so I cannot recall snowball fights or sledging with him. I do remember flying down the big hill at Cow Lane with childhood friends. The taste of snow when we fell off. The bruises. Like the long hot summers I let all this blanket me in warmth. Martyn, Mark, Simon and Peter. I wonder where they all went? 

I’ll walk past the Marden Hospital, well where it used to be, and wonder how I feel about the fact the place where my brother passed away is now a housing estate. How somewhere that was so clinical has become a home hopefully filled with so much happiness and excitement. Kids opening Advent calendars. Kids going to bed early on Christmas Eve in readiness for Santa. Kids just being kids. I cling on to that and not the bandages or the smell of ointments. Maybe that’s just my way of coping or looking for the positive? 

I’m not one for giving Christmas message and I know it is difficult for a lot of people. I know I’ll spend most of the time plonked in front of the telly watching musicals. Get goosebumps when I hear ‘Climb Every Mountain’. Same as it ever was. What you learn I guess is that family may be gone but they are easily found. The cold weather always brings it all back to me and I welcome that in many ways. It prevents me from feeling too alone. My brother will forever be there in the army brass band of ‘Stop The Cavalry’. I know I will hum along with him. 

Andrew Nicholas is an artist and writer from Brierfield. He tends to free write on a theme but his work always focuses on belonging, identity and the transient nature of memory. The battle between real and misremembering. His artwork focuses on the beauty of the outskirts and the things found by walking off path. He also produces abstract images inspired by local towns. His debut exhibition with Diane Muldowney is called ‘In A Different Light’. It is currently on display at The Mechanics, Burnley.

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Image - Kevin Green