Little Boxes

I think the concept of Boxing Day has morphed a little over the centuries.

You see, the name of this public holiday (yes, in Commonwealth countries... apologies to my American readers....) derives from the English aristocratic tradition of giving seasonal gifts, on the day after Christmas, to less wealthy people and social inferiors. If I was a wealthy type, I would expect visits today from my tradespeople and servants to collect boxes of goods in exchange for excellent service in the year to come.

Indulge me in a Bogan interpretation for a moment. Is this in ANY way linked to my annual Boxing Day tradition of taking loads of crap to the Vinnies bin? Like today, we packed up Brad's polyester microfibre double-breasted black suit (circa 1993 in a lovely undertaker-style) and took it to the Vinnie's bin at Izzy shops. Actually, there was an inebriated, scruffy looking chap using the bin as a comfort stop and the thought did cross my mind to offer him the suit on the spot. Didn't though because I doubt he'd have a job interview or funeral to attend in the next little while, but that could just be me being judgemental.

How strange would it be to have tradespeople and 'servants' turn up on your doorstep on Boxing Day to collect boxed gifts? No different to the stream of friends and family turning up to do the same I guess, and at least the servants aren't going to scoff all the cheese and wine like locusts. Perhaps I should leave a gift out for the garbo tonight. Maybe a box of baked goods for the guy who comes to spray the house for spiders, pests and the like. He'd probably like a boxed gift. The Australia Post parcel guy has become a regular... I wonder what he'd like? Fruit cake and a stubbie like Santa? A new pair of sneakers and a puzzle book? Perhaps I should leave little boxes (made of 'ticky-tacky') with tags all neatly lined up (looking 'just the same') for my equivalent of tradespeople and servants.

Nowadays, rather than giving crap away on Boxing Day we seem to be buying more of it.

I was at the Boxing Day sales this morning at the Hippodome. Nice and early in order to undertake some research. Whilst my data possibly isn't a totally valid sample, I didn't find ANYONE who was queueing for ages in Target in order to buy gifts to box for their servants. More like a bunch of salad-dodging Bogans staggering around with armfuls of multi-pack Tontine pillows, half price Chrissy deco's and waaaaaaay too many packets of chocolate-covered almonds ("ahhhh, excuse me... a word of advice... unless you're planning to box up those chockies for your servants today then your arse and thighs could do with a trip to the fruit & veg section...just sayin'...")  You can hardly blame people though for succumbing to the temptation of the Boxing Day sales. I myself even got a new pair of bamboo undies (mmm... absorbent...), some shorts that promise to shape my body (and that just can't be a bad thing in summer, right?) and two-for-twenty-bucks boxes of Lindor Balls.

When I was young my parents tricked me.

Yes, I know that concept is nothing new but I totally fell for it. They told me that Boxing Day was the day that people had to clean up every room in their house and put things away in boxes that they weren't going to use for a while. Pffft. Sounded perfectly plausible when I was eight. And after years and years of this TRICK, I am conditioned to the need to box something on Boxing Day. As well as donating Brad the Tradie's ugly clothes to charity (hope they're not fussy...) today I packed away my winter boots. Some habits die hard. If I'm ever at your house on Boxing Day, look out. There's cleaning to be done.

So what's the story with cricket on Boxing Day?

Were the aristocrats so bored once they'd tended the servants that they felt the need to go play a game whilst waiting for ham sandwiches? Although... we also have the annual Sydney to Hobart yacht race on Boxing Day, but maybe that's so that the uncoordinated folk have something to do. Apparently Boxing Day sport was originally designed to be played between local rivals as a friendly post-Christmas community gathering (read: so you don't have to spend ANOTHER day exclusively with your family.) Again, I think this tradition may have gotten a little side-tracked, seeing as though this year Australia's 'local rival' for the Boxing Day cricket test are the team from Pakistan. Ahhh, bugger it, as long as we smash them, who cares which team we're playing...right?

So as we stagger towards stumps on Day One of the Boxing Day Aus-Pak test and we all head to the fridge to turn leftovers into toasted sandwiches, I feel the need for just one more box. Pass the Lindor Balls darl.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little Boxes. Malvina Reynolds, 1962.