For over four years at University, my housemates and I celebrated ‘Faux Christmas’ with each other before going home to spend the 25th with our families. We differed in a lot of ways to other shared houses – we all lived, ate and functioned together like a real family. Except in our family ‘Mum’ was a red headed girl called pickle, and her ‘husband’ was a 6’5 gay man from next door. There were no locks on individual bedroom doors (which, once or twice caused a few unexpected surprises…) and you wouldn’t find any named labels on forgotten moulding cheese at the back of the fridge.
This year due to babies, jobs, and the small fact that Singapore is quite far away, the usual gang were unable to celebrate Faux Christmas together. I was however adopted by a new family, consisting of my boyfriend and his friends, and got to witness another version of this joyous, fictional holiday. I like to think that these mini ‘traditions’ we invent go someway towards shaping how we spend our Christmases in the future – and for me, it’s just as important to spend the festive period with the unique family units we create for ourselves.