Originally published by The Clifton Courier, December 21, 2018

I thought I’d take the opportunity to post this before I head to work while I wait for my kale to cook. I’m currently in an empty house, sipping a cup of tea from the cat-face-shaped mug I gifted myself  for Christmas. I thought I may as well use the morning to be productive rather than watching Christmas breakfast television, so I’m gifting you, dear readers, with a bonus Christmas column still warm from the oven, smelling of gingerbread and quiet desperation. Not only does mean this Christmas content is hyper relevant, it also means I can write something in my new diary that I’ve been holding off writing in until Christmas for a little treat. 

I realise this all sounds a little sad but don’t worry, I’m about to have a mango. 

Merry Christmas ya filthy animals. 

People often ask you what you want around this time of the year.

It’s not an aggressive “whatta YOU want!?”  or a probing “what do you really want?”, but a perfunctory request for gift ideas as the social norms for this time of year commands an exchanging of tangible tokens of affection with one’s inner circle.

We make suggestions that we know the well-intentioned gift-giver can afford, choosing items that aren’t too difficult to acquire.

If you were to say what you really, really wanted, you’d be burdening your loved ones with a list of unrealistic demands. It would make you look like a diva, while revealing the deepest, most pitiful parts of your soul. It would a combo of “a mint-condition Barbie Fold’n’Fun House” and “someone to be around to have a cup of tea with me when I feel lonely”.

However, we don’t say that. Usually the answer is a polite “I don’t need anything” or “a few more pairs of socks wouldn’t go astray”.

But if you were able to ask for anything for Christmas, with no price limits or requirements for the gifts to be something one can actually give, what would be on your list?

It’s an interesting question to ask yourself, and makes for a lively discussion around a dinner/dessert/chips-and-dip table.

Here’s my list of things I actually want for Christmas:

World peace: As this is a magic list of things I can wish into existence, I feel I should be somewhat benevolent. People would be pretty cranky with me if I wasted my mystical powers on myself. So I figure I may as well through the world a bone with a blanket wish that generally solves all the big problems while making me look good.

A few days of good, soaking rain: Again, this is partly due to my desire to appear as a selfless person who derives her joy from the happiness of others. But this is a self-serving wish.

I would love a few days of the sound of rain hitting a tin roof. It’s such a marvellous sound. It drowns out my inner monologue and creates a feeling of cosiness that a noisemaker app could never achieve.

And a few days of rain would put a slight chill in the air, which would allow me to wear an oversized sloppy Joe while lounging around the house. I think relaxing is best done in an aged jumper, as is having an emotional breakthrough after a period of quiet self-reflection brought on by some mild emotional trauma.

A few days off to enjoy the few days of good, soaking rain: I love the rain but I don’t really love having to be a productive human being in it. It just makes things a trickier – you have to drive slower, your thongs flick puddle water up the back of your thighs and you get foggy glasses.

I hate having to work while there’s fantastically depressing weather happening outside. That kind of weather must be savoured, like the last Tim Tam in the packet. You don’t want to be thinking about emails or accounts while there’s fog rolling in and rain lashing the windowpanes. You want to be rehashing the events of the past until you come to some kind of enlightening conclusion.

Some mild emotional trauma: Because you need something to mull over during a period of quiet self-reflection in order to achieve your emotional breakthrough.

Some mulled wine: Because, after you’ve done all that mental mulling, the best way to celebrate your emotional breakthrough is by redirecting your mulling energy towards cinnamon-y alcohol.

A cast iron skillet and casserole dish from this really, really fancy cookware brand: I’ve entered a period of my life where cookware is a status symbol. I mean, I would love to be able to sear a perfect steak before finishing it off in the oven or bake bread in a tasteful pot, but I would also love for people to note that I can afford pricey cookware and make the assumption that I have my life in order. I wouldn’t tell them the fancy, fancy frypan appeared in my kitchen as the result of some undeserved magical intervention rather than being purchased by me, a successful adult who makes financially-sound decisions. They don’t need to know that.

For microwaves to have silent switches: We have sent man to the moon. We have cloned sheep. We have created machines that allow us print in three-dimensions. And yet, we still don’t have microwaves that don’t beep obnoxiously at us when our noodles have cooked.

For zoodles to actually have the taste and texture of pasta: I am a fan of using zucchini in the place of pasta, don’t get me wrong. It tastes fine. But you are lying to yourself if you believe zucchini ribbons are able to replicate the delights of those carb-dense strips of starchy heaven.

A few more pairs of socks: Because they never do go astray.