Spending Christmas alone? Well you're not alone. Many Australians will be waking up tomorrow with no one to crack a cracker with. (Have you actually tried to do that by yourself? It's not as easy as you think!)

Whether you've chosen to spend Christmas alone, and many people do for an assortment of reasons, or circumstances have meant you can't be with family and friends, many of us will rise on December 25 to an empty house.

I'm one of them. Sometimes I'm haunted by the ghost of Christmas past. I miss celebrations surrounded by a lot of people - aunts, uncles, cousins, random strangers we called aunt and uncle, neighbours who'd dropped in after returning a cricket ball that had been lobbed over the back fence and just hung around.

As a kid, my Christmases were joyous. I can't remember one bad one. A tribe of cousins who'd make mischief all day, only heading inside when Aunty Jenny - Christmas was always at her place - would call us all inside for the official start of lunch, even though lunch kind of started at 10am and only finished when our fathers had sobered up enough to drive us all home.

There were the heady wilderness years, as Adrian Mole dubbed them, once I'd finished university and started working in a job that most likely meant I was rostered to work because I didn't have children of my own to worry about. (Or that was the thinking of management back in the day.)

Once I did, and I was part of a big family again, things perked up once more. Lots of siblings meant lots of cousins. Now we were the ones inside fussing over lunch and the kids were outside making their own mischief.

It's how I expected all of my Christmases to play out. But life happens. And there's no point being all humbug about it.

Instead, if you are waking up alone, and facing spending the day alone, why not pencil in a few fun things to get you through the day.

There's nothing like a seafood platter to make you feel special. And nothing says it's summer holidays more than a fisherman's basket at the Surf Life Saving Club. Make yourself one. A few years ago I spent Christmas in lockdown, someone gifted the office a case of COVID and we had to isolate until we passed the test. I already had the prawns, oysters and salmon in the fridge, kilos of them. I ate like a queen.

See above. Eating like a queen has repercussions. Why not head out for a walk after dinner to aid digestion (and find room for dessert). Even better, take a couple of walks throughout the day. Surely some kids in the neighbourhood will be out riding their bikes, or zooming their remote control cars up and down footpaths, or shooting some hoops. Surely they're not all inside with their new PlayStations? Find a little joy in the joy of others and hand out cheery well-wishes to all and sundry.

I was blasting Michael Buble in the car the other day and it occurred to me that it's been ages since I've had the opportunity to sing carols out loud. Not just in the car, but in church, or at a concert. What's that saying? Sing like nobody's listening? I'm thinking about actually heading to church just to sing in the company of others. Maybe church isn't your thing. Sing loud and proud at home, or at least have them on high rotation during the day.

In my single-life experience, few people reach out to ask if you'd like to come over for Christmas Day. Some friends do, or at least extend that invitation to Boxing Day when they've off-loaded their own family. But I've decided there's no shame in asking your friends (and you'll know which ones won't think it's a completely insane request) if you could join them for a meal at least. Sure they might not want you jumping on their bed with their children at 6am hassling you to get up and open presents. But most people can find an extra seat for lunch. Offer to bring something, offer to play with their kids while they relax, offer to wash up. Maybe every family needs that random stranger.

Literally gift yourself. Buy yourself something nice. Might be as simple as a book you want to read, or as extravagant as a piece of fine jewellery. I always buy a nice serving bowl or platter and use that during the day.

But gift yourself the right frame of mind too. Being alone is nothing to be ashamed of. Learning to love your own company is the best thing us singles can do.

I've covered a few things here at The Canberra Times over the years, from sport to education. But now I get to write about the fun stuff - where to eat, what to do, places to go, people to see. Let me know about your favourite things. Email: karen.hardy@canberratimes.com.au

I've covered a few things here at The Canberra Times over the years, from sport to education. But now I get to write about the fun stuff - where to eat, what to do, places to go, people to see. Let me know about your favourite things. Email: karen.hardy@canberratimes.com.au

QOSHE - Home alone for Christmas? Make like Kevin and fill your day with fun - Karen Hardy
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Home alone for Christmas? Make like Kevin and fill your day with fun

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22.12.2023

Spending Christmas alone? Well you're not alone. Many Australians will be waking up tomorrow with no one to crack a cracker with. (Have you actually tried to do that by yourself? It's not as easy as you think!)

Whether you've chosen to spend Christmas alone, and many people do for an assortment of reasons, or circumstances have meant you can't be with family and friends, many of us will rise on December 25 to an empty house.

I'm one of them. Sometimes I'm haunted by the ghost of Christmas past. I miss celebrations surrounded by a lot of people - aunts, uncles, cousins, random strangers we called aunt and uncle, neighbours who'd dropped in after returning a cricket ball that had been lobbed over the back fence and just hung around.

As a kid, my Christmases were joyous. I can't remember one bad one. A tribe of cousins who'd make mischief all day, only heading inside when Aunty Jenny - Christmas was always at her place - would call us all inside for the official start of lunch, even though lunch kind of started at 10am and only finished when our fathers had sobered up enough to drive us all home.

There were the heady wilderness years, as Adrian Mole dubbed them, once I'd finished university and........

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