Driving Home For Christmas


Imagine the most cringe-worthy family party. Several family members drink too much, they drag up some disturbing family history that the rest had effectively buried, or they are just plain drunk; you play games you would not contemplate playing with anybody you know that you don’t share a gene or two with, or worse still you are forced into a blood-tied singalong. And you do it because it is family, right?

Imagine all the Christmas songs you grew up with. Not the carols, the real classics: Last Christmas ( the first hearing of which always marks the beginning of the season for me); Do They Know It’s Christmas Time (At All)?; Merry Christmas (Everyone); Driving Home For Christmas…

All of them have a place in my heart, a discreet one, carefully closed and only usually opened with a healthy dose of alcohol.

Now, imagine this all at once…the family gathered around a roaring fire, each family member warmed to the deepest cockles with the boxed vin rouge et vin blanc and in turn hollering out every Christmas hit they can remember. And, imagine this is taking place in your front room, beneath your bedroom and it’s not quite Chris Rea’s version of Driving Home For Christmas vibrating through the thick floor tiles…

…this is living and working in a ski chalet…Joyeux Noel!


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