The things we do for Christmas... (and love)

"Can you tell me where your Christmas tree baubles are please...?" I pleasantly asked a frenzied-looking shop assistant in a store at the weekend.
Laughter ensued. Loud laughter in fact.
In fact the kind of laughter that upon diminishing, would have normally seen said sales assistant beckon to other sales staff to come gather for a good old laugh at the silly Brit.
Once the laughter stopped she pointed over to a small stand in the corner.
"That's what we have left," she said still smirking.
Had it not been the 'season of good will', I would have slammed my sticky iced cinnamon roll in her face.
Believe me I thought about it.
But instead I strolled over to the stand with Jacks now in tow.
"What did she say?" Jacks asked.
"That's all they have left," I answered.
"Seriously?"
Seriously.
Now I was warned about the 'holiday season' starting on Thanksgiving - aka November 28th - but I admit, I didn't really pay much attention.
I didn't hear the start gun, Christmas isn't a sprint... it's a marathon. Surely, I thought.
Wrong.
It seems that Christmas does indeed start on Thanksgiving... midnight on Thanksgiving Eve to be exact.
Overnight every retailer under the warm Californian night sky puts up every twinkly glittery decoration they can lay their hands on.
Overnight San Diego becomes a Santa's grotto.
As I've since explained to many American people here, traditionally retailers in the UK 'kick off' Christmas and it's frenzied consumer-led chaos in November.
For many people in the UK, Christmas doesn't really feel like, well... 'Christmas', until at least December 20th.
This is normally around the time when you read leaked details of the Queen's Christmas Day speech in the national tabloid press, and the likely inclusion of 'Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom' and 'Love Actually' in the TV listings (AGAIN).
Up until then it's Christmas for the sake of Christmas. It's only when families begin to come together that our traditional UK Christmas begins.
I digress...
So there we were trying to buy a Christmas tree, some fairy lights and some baubles, on December 7th - two-and-a-half WEEKS before Christmas Day.
But it didn't matter.
We were late for Christmas.
A deep-rooted feeling of regret and sadness filled our tummies.
Had we seriously missed the boat? We didn't get the memo! Had that ship largely sailed?!
Pants.
Fortunately (because every Christmas story has got to have a happy ending right?) we found a bunch of people selling Christmas trees in the parking lot (or 'car park' as we call them).
And then of course the traditional husband-wife conversation began...
Me: "Which one do you fancy?"
Jacky: "That one!"
Me: "That's way too big."
Jacky: "THAT one."
Me: "Look at the size of the tree's TRUNK."
Jacky: "Okay... THAT one. It's small compared to the other ones."
Me: "Well, it's smaller than the other one..."
Sold.
$20 = bargain.
Now, I should mention at this point that we currently don't have a car here, and we usually rely solely on the good nature of friends and public transport.
Everyone else who bought a tree from that parking lot picked up their trees, placed them on carts and pushed or pulled them to their nearby cars.
As we didn't have a car to push or pull a cart to, I opted to carry the monster.
Of course being a man - a man who shirks at the idea of carrying two grocery store bags in favour of ALL of them at once (because I'm a man and that's what men do - albeit stupidly) - I hoisted the tree up and onto my shoulder, nearly taking out the tree-selling staff in the process as I spun around to locate the nearest trolley (San Diego's train) stop.

No I can't hold THAT pose

'Did Jacks help...?' I hear you ask...
Not unless by 'helping' you mean by taking photos and laughing uncontrollably.
All that was going through my head was 'it's our first Christmas as a married couple, it's our first Christmas as a married couple'.
With friends out of town and unreachable, we decided to try and use the trolley to get the bloody thing home.
Cue further comedy.
There are signs, clear signs, on just about every trolley carriage stating the size of things which may or may not be carried on said trolley.
Somehow, in the listing they forgot to mention that 'no Christmas tree over seven feet tall and three feet wide should be allowed on board'.
Yep, they missed the trick there.
Clearly no-one would be crazy enough to attempt such a feat...? That is until last Saturday.

Where's Wally?

So there I was at the trolley stop, roughly ten stops from the nearest stop to home, thinking there is no WAY we are going to be allowed on the trolley with this beast.

"Not a chance..." or so I thought

But then magic happened. The trolley arrived, we got on (well, I 'stumbled' on), I wedged the tree up against a seat and the trolley's ceiling and I smiled at the other passengers pretending that it was the most normal thing in the world to do.

En route

The 'magic' revolved around two transport police looking up at us, and simply ignoring the tree.

"Nothing to see here..."

It was a strange moment. It was like it was invisible.
And as weird as the rest of the journey was, it was also wonderful in equal measure.
In our crazy randomness we brought a fair amount of Christmas cheer to that carriage attracting smiles and nods of approval from every passenger who happened to get on, or off.
A couple of people commented about how great the tree smelt.
"It's smells like Christmas," one man said before thanking us.

Are we nearly home yet...?

So yes, we made it 'home' seemingly leaving half of the tree's needles on the trolley, in the elevator, and along the passageway to the front door.

Once in the apartment I grappled with the tree to raise it up, cut the string which had held it so tightly together, and then looked on with some amount of smugness as my aforementioned views were realised that this was indeed no 'small' tree.

Oh dear lord...

"Oh my gosh..." Jacky said.
Long story cut short... it looks amazing.
We found some baubles (around 60) from a store across the road at a discounted price because it's 'past-season' (?!) and we bought 75ft (yes... 25ft x 25ft x 25ft = 75ft!!!!!) of lights.
I could have covered my entire house in England with that length of lighting!
Still.
It does look pukka.

Twinkle twinkle in the Casa de los Nichols

America does Christmas well.
And now, so do we.
Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go and be horizontal for a while and try to soothe this aching back.
Happy holidays everyone!

@tristan_nichols

One quick question before the world ends...

HANG on a minute… mad scramble to look out of window… the world didn’t end after all!

Uh oh, it seems I’m now in a whole heap of trouble.

You see, with the fear of impending doom I might just have done something a tad crazy…

Of course I’m kidding.

In the early afternoon of Monday 17^th December 2012, at the very top of the ascension of the London Eye, looking out over my nation’s capital, I went down on one knee and asked Iliana Jaqueline Pantoja if she’d marry me.

I cried. She laughed, and then cried. And then the other people in the Eye’s capsule applauded, laughed, and cried too.

My proposal went something like this: “If the world truly does end in four days I don’t want to think that I missed the opportunity to ask if you’d marry me… So, with that in mind, will you marry me?”

Her immediate response was “Oh my god, oh my GOD…”

I obviously had to ask, “is that a yes or a no?!”

Jacks then said ‘yes’ not once, but six times.

“Yes, yes, yes… si, si, SI!!!!” she replied.

On top of the world

"If you like it then you should put a ring on it"

All those months of me freaking out about the slightest of details quickly dissolved into laughable anecdotes.

The moment was perfect. The weather on that day was crisp, clear and beautiful. We were together alone in our own private universe and, of course, she said ‘yes’.

Jacky could be heard again muttering "oh my god, oh my GOD!!!!"

That day marked the culmination of pretty much nine months of planning and preparation on my part.

From the very moment I met Jacks back in March I knew I had to have her.

After those sunny days in Playa Del Carmen for me, everything was leading up to this magical moment.

Our story is so unique and perfect. Even we find it all hard to believe. (For those who are unaware of the background click on the first blog entry).

I had a few ideas of how I wanted to propose, but I settled on proposing on the London Eye.

I liked the idea of traditionalism.

I bought the ring in Tijuana having shopped around in the UK, the US and Mexico. I liked the idea that she would be wearing something sourced from her home.

I wanted to signify our cross-Atlantic connection by proposing in my home country – and doing so while suspended above the country’s capital seemed perfect.

Moments before the proposal

My beautiful fiancée

Of course there was also the nice hook of Jacky's Mayan ancestors predicting the world ending in a few days’ time.

I know some people have raised eyebrows mentioning that we’ve only been together for little over 10 months but hey, in the (sort of) words of Beyonce “if you like it then you should put a ring on it”.

Those people can, quite simply, bugger off.

Yes, our relationship is under a year old, but the fact is I've spent 34 years looking for her. When you know, I guess, you know.

It’s funny how things work out. And it was truly bizarre that I actually bought and picked up the ring on the same day as Jacky’s sister’s boyfriend proposed to her.

Oh talking of traditions, the moment I asked Jacky’s dad for permission for his daughter’s hand in marriage was a moment of comedy genius.

I tried to ask in Spanish. But, having quickly realized I could quite easily slip up and ask for the family dog’s paw in marriage I resorted to my native tongue.

As history now dictates he agreed – he even mentioned it first which pre-empted my question.

Oh and here’s a reflection and a point that’s very rarely mentioned.

Everyone talks about THAT moment. You know, how exactly did you propose? Where were you? Did you go down on one knee? That sort of thing.

But what no-one ever talks about is what happens AFTER that moment.

Sure, there’s the hugging, kissing and crying bit. And the round of applause, if it’s a public proposal.

But how do you maintain the buzz? How do you match that level of intensity having asked the one question you hope never to ask again?

I have to admit to feeling a bit lost and in a slight flutter in the hour or so after that moment.

Should I have packed champagne? Should I be carrying her? Should I burst into song?!

Jacks was a little less intimidated it seemed, and made what now appears to be the obvious choice – to continue smiling and laughing.

There, a short distance away from the London Eye was a Mr Bean lookalike.

So we initially celebrated our engagement by goofing around with the character in front of an audience of dozens.

Mr Bean strikes again

I think that says a lot about us.

Oh, and just in case anyone thinks I’m a tight b*stard for not buying champagne, we then went on a boat cruise down the Thames followed by ice skating at the Natural History Museum. (Note: my practical interpretation of ice 'skating' was more ice falling).

Ice ice baby

Skating on thin ice

We then had dinner at an Italian restaurant at Leicester Square to reflect on the craziest day of our lives yet.

Fun times indeed.

So there you have it.

Before any more people ask ‘do you have a date?’ The answer is ‘no’.

It won’t be this year (obviously), and probably not next year.

I need to sort this job/visa thing out, and we need to save some serious cash.

Oh, and the ring is a traditional diamond solitaire ring. The ‘rock’ is just short of half a carat and the ring is 14ct white gold.

Jacky's bling

For now though I hope this brings a smile to some faces and I, well… we, hope you have a wonderful Christmas and a very happy New Year.

Keep dreaming guys.

Crazy beautiful madness.

P.S. Holy shit, I have a fiancée!!!!!!!!!