Boxing Day .. the rituals, and a cricket match?

Boxing Day seems to be all about rituals.

People participate in traditional activities, such as visiting friends and family, they blissfully exchange gifts, and blindly follow family procedures, and customs. It’s these customs, or rituals, that interest me.

They’re both fascinating, and confusing, in equal doses.

Visit the search engine and a Boxing Day query will return information on the Feast of St. Stephen. Furthermore, it was likely born in the United Kingdom, where people gave gifts to the less fortunate, the day after Christmas. Which, in my view, is reassuring in this current age of rampant materialism.

Still, not much to decode the complexities of Boxing Day rituals there.

A prominent author, commentator, and Melburnian, when pressed about the relevance of Christmas Day, replied, “well, it’s basically Boxing Day eve.” Such is the importance of the Boxing Day Test Match in Melbourne.

The iconic MCG - Day 1 - Boxing Day Test - AUSvRSA

I realise the subject is Boxing Day, it’s just I haven’t heard Christmas Day referenced like that before.

Before we get to the Boxing Day Test, pardon first a personal reminiscence of December 26th.

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A return to Manchester, and to my own early childhood. Boxing Day was easily the best day of the holiday period for me.

Due primarily to Christmas Day being about opening presents, and watching Dad struggle to put together the train set, never mind getting it to work. If it wasn’t a train set, it was a bike, or a brand-new football, something that needed outdoor space. This was impossible given the weather. It was so bloody frustrating.

My siblings and I were always grateful though!

Boxing Day was splendidly different, mainly because Mum’s family visited for the day, and most of the night! 

Mum was raised in Gorton, Manchester. It’s as rough as it sounds. Thankfully she, her sister, and elder brother sought asylum - not literally - and were thankfully relocated to the Southern suburbs of Manchester (apologies to any North Manchester readers).

(It’s worthwhile noting, Gorton has since undergone a regeneration.)

Mum married Dad, in what turned out to be a near-perfect match, one that endured longer than most. Mum’s sister, Auntie Sheila, remarried Stan, after losing her first husband. Uncle Stan was a diamond. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for us. My first experience watching Manchester City at Maine Road was in the company of Uncle Stan. He even named his dog “Blue.”

He will be smiling down as we speak.

And Mum’s brother, Uncle Ken, just tagged along for the ride. He never got around to marriage. He must have been too busy, that’s what I thought. Anyway, he was a deadly crown green bowler. He rolled his woods like no one I knew. He taught me thumb and finger bias, how to block the jack, the intricacies of match-play. In a selfish way, I was glad he didn’t get around to marriage. We spent many competitive afternoons together on the green.

So, the Fletcher and Bagshaw clans would make the annual pilgrimage to East Didsbury, every second Boxing Day. The alternate away game was never as good as the home fixture!

The day always began slowly with gift exchanges. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Stan’s face when he received his gift of socks for the year. Nobody could hide their real feelings like Stan - I always wished he would confide in me in his dislike of “bloody socks.” He was just too nice for that.

Next was Uncle Ken fixing the train set that Dad stuffed up the day before, or any gift that involved electrical components. Ken often told war stories. I even recall him mentioning Alan Turing. I think he was just name-dropping. Anyway, he always made sure everything was in working order for us. Dad liked Ken.

Auntie Shelia and Mum used to just talk, and talk, and talk some more. I can’t really recall the subject of the conversations; it was just sister-to-sister stuff. Lynne was our cousin, and was older than the three of us. She was in love with Elton John, I didn’t know at the time, if I had though, I would have warned her off!

Dad was an interesting case study on Boxing Day. He, like me, yearned to be on the move, outside throwing a lacrosse ball, or kicking the football. He resented being hemmed in; there wasn’t too much room in our three-bed semi. His primary goal was to wait for the day to give way to the night.

When the drinking started I’m not sure, for me, though, this signalled the female, male split, with the men relocating to the back room to play cards. I always tagged along.

I watched them play all night; fifteen this, fifteen that, pairs and runs, and one for the nod. I’m sure Uncle Ken used to cheat on the pegging - he drank less than the others, although he was the only smoker. What a smell his cigarettes gave off. I blame Ken for my brief flirtation with tobacco. He was a skilled cribbage player, though.

This was our Boxing Day. I’m sure every family had their own wrinkles on how they passed the day. For me, it was all about card-watching, smelling alcohol, and trying to work out if Stan was genuine when he thanked Mum for his sock gift! And, of course, keeping an eye on Ken’s pegging!

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Regardless of the reminiscing, we should get back to the matter at hand.

The Boxing Day Test.

It will last a few days if Australia bat well in their first innings. Their opponents, South Africa, look as reliable as a British Prime Minister with a bat in hand. Australia’s bowling is simply too good for the South African batting.

They look classes apart, similar to Winston Churchill and Liz Truss - I really should not couple them in the same sentence. Uncle Ken admired Mr. Churchill.

So, I will get to some cricket writing in the next few days. There is plenty to dissect, non-more poignant than the continuing tribute to Shane Warne.

For now, though. it’s just nice to trip down memory lane, after all, this time of year is about family.

And, this Christmas will be the first time the three of us will be without our parents. Just maybe, they are all together somewhere else, and Uncle Stan told Mum he doesn’t like socks.

Merry Christmas All.

P.S. send me your own family customs in the comments if you like