Saturday, 25 December 2010


© Gary D via Flickr, modified in accorance with this Creative Commons License
Ho ho ho, it's Christmas Eve! So, to celebrate Santa's imminent arrival down my chimney I thought I'd bring the blog out of its coma and wish you season's greetings. It's been drummed into me since birth that the festive season is the perfect time of year to think about those less fortunate than ourselves, so when the Evening Standard wrote a piece recently about Tracey Emin's alternative Christmas, I couldn't help but take pity on the poor mare:

"Tracey is usually on her own for Christmas Day... In 2004 she made herself a baked potato and 'that was my Christmas'. The next year she was in her studio when Madonna rang and asked what she was up to. 'Working.' 'Come to lunch.' 'OK.' She jumped on her bike, ate fish with Madonna, Guy and the kids, and was back in the studio by 4pm. 'It was so relaxed. She's an old friend and wasn't doing Christmas big-time, I was only there for an hour."

Poor lass. It looks like it's a lonely old existence at Christmas for our Tracey, doesn't it? But have no fear, dear reader, she does have a cat called Docket to keep her company, thus confirming that Tracey Emin is staying true to her Margate origins by turning into a sad old cat lady. "This year I'll make an effort," she says, "I'll have a tree, presents, and some friends over." So, what exactly does Tracey Emin plan to do for Christmas? After all, I'm sure the people of Thanet would love to know:

"'For Christmas Eve, I cook chicken soup and vegetable soup, buy big cheeses, and text invitations to friends who I know are on their own. People are usually invited somewhere on Christmas Day or are going away to escape, so Christmas Eve is a good one. Sometimes it's ten people, sometimes 30. I decorate the house with fairy lights and candles and it's quite secular, but we do go to Midnight Mass. A couple of years ago I decorated the church and hired candelabras. When we arrive, it's a bit like Stella Street, neighbours turning round in their pews saying, "That really looks like Bianca Jagger!" Last time, Bianca and Vivienne [Westwood] heckled the vicar because they didn't agree with what he was saying. And I was so drunk I started miaowing during the Amens.'"

Spoken like a true cat lady. Charming eh? In all honestly, it's quite a saddening article really, even if Emin does come across as a bit of a Little Miss Scroogette at times. "Tracey's problem with Christmas," it says, "is that 'for people with children it is utterly child centred', and she wishes she knew more childless women." She also says: "'The reason I've never liked Christmas is because my mum used to waitress on Christmas Day and Paul and I sat at home waiting for her. We didn't have decorations, our house wasn't Christmassy.'"

What a shame. Apparently, if she had it her way, the lusty Miss Emin said her "ideal Christmas would be spent in a hotel bed with the right person" and that all she wants is "'a really big dick.'" Since she once implored people to flock to Margate for a dirty weekend in a grubby B&B, it's rapidly becoming obvious that Tracey's definition of bringing peace and goodwill to all men is very different from mine. Each to their own, I suppose. Enjoy your turkey everyone. Ciao for now.