In the Spirit of Christmas

There’s an episode of Friends that I think we can all learn from. It’s the one when Rachel and Phoebe go jogging in the park. For Rachel, it’s a body motivated work out: run hard, get thin. Phoebe, however, is running like a loon. Arms flailing, legs splayed, careening around like a drunken fly on hyper-drive.

What’s she doing (other than embarrassing Rachel…)? She’s running like a kid: like she did when she was five years old and weightless without worry. And for Phoebe, it’s a total release - a hit of euphoria. In the end, of course, they’re both doing it.
Lolliping through Central Park with wild abandon…

I was thinking about that as I stared down at a big squishy Beasty Bag at the Spirit of Christmas fair in Olympia last week. I’d left my company’s stand for a quick wander, to take some time out from talking shop. My feet were aching, my head a little fuzzy. Then I saw the suede-soft, hippo shaped beanbag lying outstretched on the floor. Above it was a photo of a twinkly eyed little girl, gleefully wriggling on one of her own. My inner child began to bounce and squeal: ‘Dive in! Roll around! Get snug!’ But all my outer business woman would concede was wistful smile. I had to wrench myself away.

Good gifts for godchildren, I reflected. Not for grown ups, I repeated. The fair is a real feast for the eyes, and it wasn’t long before I’d fallen for something else: ‘Love Letters’ from Jonny’s Sister. They’re handmade cushions of the alphabet in a colourful array of fabrics that can hang from kiddies’ doors or sit in their cot. They also make letters out of wood and soap, but my inner child wanted to squeeze the padded ones. Very calmly, and with as much restraint as I could muster, I let her do it. They were satisfyingly squidgy to the touch.

Talking of things squidgy, on the SW stand I had a giant image of baby Jack with one of our ‘fatty puff’ bibs around his neck. He attracted lots of smiles and quite a few adoring comments throughout the day. But when I walked back after my wander, I encountered a woman staring at the photo, aghast. She explained that it offended her (every PC saturated cell of her...!) that I had labelled Jack as ‘fatty’. It was an insult, she seethed! Babies are MEANT to be fat, I retorted (as politely as I could.) After all, we have our whole adult lives to deny ourselves food. To deny ourselves FUN and FRIVOLITY, for that matter!

As soon as she’d hurrumphed off down the aisle, I was seized with an indescribable urge. I stalked past the stands of jewellery, handbags and cashmere. Gained pace near the cookies, champagne and hats. I saw my target, kicked off my shoes and plunged onto the suede-soft hippo shaped Beasty Bag. Clasping my arms around its neck and nuzzling in with delight, I thought: doing a ‘Phoebe’ once in a while is really good for you.

Scarlett Willow