Christmas is coming in Rachel Killington's two jobs: working on the radio station's Black Thunders community unit and in a supermarket. Open season Although I realise I’m risking being hung, drawn and quartered, burnt at the stake or another far more heinous demise, I have to highlight the fact that the 'C' word is almost upon us. Although working in retail means that seasons are often confused - Easter eggs arrive in store when we’re still working off the excesses of Christmas, back to school equipment is on the shelves before the children have barely finished the summer term, and selection boxes and tree decorations often arrive when temperatures are soaring and the days are long and sunny. At the time of writing we are less than nine weeks away from the big day itself, and whilst that fact may strike fear into the very heart of most people, I have to admit that I’m finding it all very exciting.
At the moment it’s quiet at both my workplaces - almost like the calm before the storm. Understandably the pace has slowed after the frantic summer months, and it has certainly been nice to relax and take stock - albeit for a short time, because November and December are looking to be extremely hectic, with new opportunities constantly arising . Twinkling in the gloomTraditionally, autumn and winter are particularly depressing seasons. Apart from Christmas and New Year there isn’t an awful lot to look forward to, and many people dread the festive season. Superficially it's fantastic - commercially it appears to be a heady fusion of romance, nostalgia and wholesome family gatherings, with a spattering of schmaltz. Realistically it often results in a stressful clump of expense, disappointment and loneliness. Maybe it’s the child inside that never completely grew up, but for me Christmas is always magical. I love seeing the twinkly lights in the rural villages where I live. I enjoy getting lost in the hustle and bustle of last minute Christmas shopping and I adore crisp frosty mornings when everything seems to sparkle as if it has been sprinkled with fairy dust. (Scraping ice off the car windscreen, fingers and toes that feel like ice blocks, and trudging home through muddy slush are certain down points to this otherwise fairly romantic season.) I almost missed Christmas altogether last year. I spent almost six weeks visiting schools and theatres in various locations throughout the UK playing Dorothy in 'The Wizard of Oz', and though I shared some fantastic experiences with thousands of children, somewhere, somehow the real meaning of Christmas was lost for me, particularly as I missed the closeness of my local community. This year promises to be the best Christmas ever, and I’m looking forward to being at work. The Black Thunders are booked in for lots of community-based festivities including Santa Races, Nativity plays and Christmas lights switch-ons, and I’m hoping to be included in the majority of events. We are holding a big on-air auction for our Kidz charity, and we organise an annual event called ‘Load the Lorry’ which is a truly amazing and humbling experience - last year we collected over 7,000 shoeboxes crammed full of festive goodies for children in underprivileged countries. We were even able to see pictures of the children receiving their boxes afterwards - their smiles really were a joy to see. Let the queuing commenceSo yes I’ll be working hard in the build-up to Christmas but this year I’m really looking forward to it. It gives me such a sense of pride knowing that my job might just make a difference to somebody, somewhere. I’ll be doing a job I love, with colleagues who are also my friends, in my local community, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing. So bring on the dark nights, sleet, rain and snow. Let the endless queuing in overcrowded shops begin, and may the battle commence over which household has the most extravagant Christmas illuminations. This year it’ll take an awful lot more than that to stop me smiling, and that’s the best Christmas present I could ever ask for. See Rachel's previous job logs: |
