The joy of Christmas (alone)

At 11.00am on Christmas morning I awoke in my abode in Waterloo, Sydney. I could look forward to a continental-style breakfast, a few hours reading in my room, many more hanging around in front of the television and, finally, an eight-hour sleep. And all of this I would do alone.

Spending Christmas alone is usually assumed to be a bad thing. Mine may sound to you desperately sad, all too reminiscent of that tragicomic icon of modern male inadequacy, Alan Partridge. But when some charity reported that nearly half a million older people would spend Christmas by themselves, no one asked how large a minority were relieved not to have to bother with it any more. My experience of this ultimate anti-Christmas, and those of the other festive refuseniks I met along the way, suggests that any pity or mockery is displaced. Envy might be more appropriate.

The cabbie who took me to the shops on Christmas Eve was certainly more than happy to be working the next day. Apart from the large number of "wheelchair jobs" resulting from non-emergency ambulance crews taking their holidays, there were lots of people who by early evening were "desperate to get out", he said, making the drive surprisingly easy. After all, what else would he be doing, with no wife or kids to be with? "I'd be down the pub talking a load of old rubbish with my mates," he said.

I got to a pub to find it about two-thirds empty. I walked in and headed for the bar, where I was served by Vazken. He wasn't over the moon to have another shift the next day, but as an Armenian Orthodox Christian, his Christmas is on January 6 anyway, so it was no big deal. According to the last census, rising percentage of Australia's population is not Christian at all. With more than one-quarter of the population with no reason to see the 25th as special, why should it be strange not to celebrate it?

Indeed, I was to meet many more non-Christians, including the Muslim cashier at the Travelex foreign exchange counter, who thought it was "brilliant" to be working on Christmas day because of the extra pay. It was as though, for one day only, the sizeable non-Christian minority got to run the country.

Perhaps what I meant was that by refusing to accepting an invitation to share someone else's, which would never really be mine celebrations, I had defied the expectations of those who think there is only one right way to celebrate, one they may not enjoy, but feel obliged to enact.

There's nothing wrong with a good family gathering at Christmas for those who have a family arrangement that allows it, an opportunity to make it happen and a cultural background that makes Christmas mean something. But if we're honest, there are many people who don't fit this mould. They should not be made to feel like like social pariahs for opting out of the traditional Christmas, or any other widely observed celebration. It is much sadder to attempt to cobble together a traditional Christmas from pieces that don't fit than to throw them all away and do something completely different instead.

On New Year's Eve, another trial of enforced jollity, I will be raising a glass to my fellow Christmas refuseniks who dealt with their situations with honesty and defiance. And I'll be doing it quietly in my bed, avoiding yet another celebration that some see as unmissable. If you feel pity, there's no need. And if you feel envy, there's still time to do something about it.