When we lived in LA, Thanksgiving was always my favourite holiday. July 4th was always a bit awkward, you know being English and all, but Thanksgiving made up for it. I love the fact that it is a holiday with no forced agenda, no obligation and expectation of presents, no particular formalities and, hoorah, no religion. But with a sense that we all, in a non naff way (all being well and as long as you don’t turn on the telly), have something to say thanks for, if only a great big dinner.
In Italy, my favourite is Tutti Santi, All Saints day. It’s basically the hoover up day for all the second division saints who don’t get a proper day of their own. It’s the potluck saints dinner of holidays. There isn’t a particular celebration (I mean obviously if you are spire or mass inclined, you won’t be disappointed) but what’s nice for us is that this day always manages to take us completely by surprise, often even on the very morning of it, cropping up as it does at some random moment in godless November. It’s a roll of the dice day of holiday thrown in without warning. That can be a bad thing – and at first all that its arrival really heralded for us was not having any milk for the day – but now we have embraced it as a sort of ‘surprise surprise’ of holidays. Imagine it – you wake up in the morning thinking it’s just another day of work and wey-hey, everyone’s down in Approdo (our local cafe) having languid cappuccino breakfasts! No work with no warning. Like being off sick but you feel great. Marvellous.
Tip to anyone with ambitions for public office: chuck in a surprise day off. Only let people know on the day. Ensure yourself an agenda-less, live-in-the-moment-full day of celebration. Even name it after yourself. If you can’t get in on that card, you might as well give up now.
