Scandi Christmas; from bloodletting to hygge in 7 minutes

Gather ’round your tablets and let me tell you the tale of how scaring a nation of Odin-worshipping farmers and warriors into believers of a bastard child saviour from faraway lands ended up tarting up the winter solstice celebrations, but first, yule probably want me to explain what the hell I am on about… Ha.

Firstly, massive thanks to those who replied to my desperate cry for inspirational input on the socials! It was a close call. However, faced with the choice between writing about cannibalism and yule and solstice, I opted for the latter. Cheers, Durand!

I might save cannibalism for next week, for those seeking alternatives to the traditional Christmas dinner – I bet the calorie density of a human arse is less than that of a serving of crimbo pudding alone. Not that I’d recommend eating either of those, of course.

Interestingly enough, the parents of the Icelandic Yule lads actually did eat human children (presumably fictional lads and children), but that’s neither here nor there, as I don’t know if we can safely assume that a troll is a humanoid creature and, as we all know, cannibalism refers to humans eating other humans.

Right, let’s dive into this.

The Norwegian, Swedish and Danish word for Christmas is ‘jul’. This we can all agree on. In Icelandic, it’s ‘jól’. Yule in ye olde English. It originally stems from the name of the heathen winter solstice celebration; jólablót. ‘Blot’ is the sacrificial spilling of blood of an animal or human. I didn’t really have to do much research on the etymology, as I grew up in the place that saw the last ‘blót’ with a human sacrifice in Norway – heads of the Norse gods they worshipped are to this day displayed inside the church that now sits in the place where they used to perform the blót, with human blood so ingrained in them that it is still visible if you study them up close. Gross. And weird. Like most organised religion, I suppose. I digress.

Anyway, you can read about Mære kyrkje in the Snorri saga Heimskringla, if this has tickled your fancy. Me, I had to translate Heimskringla from Old Norse to Norwegian about 20 years ago and have had my fill. Here’s an article about how king Olaf the Holy beat the heathen king Olve, in Norwegian. Now, if you’re in the market for a far more interesting person of the same name, you can check out the split album True Kings of Norway, by clicking anywhere on this sentence.

So, how did they go from blood sacrifice to carolling and decorating their homes with stars, paper hearts, deformed versions of Santa and his family members and bloody angels?!

Etymologically, jul/yule/jól is believed to be Proto-Germanic, whichever way you spell it. Perhaps we can blame the raping/pillaging vikings for this, perhaps not. Regardless, it is the name of a heathen winter festival that was held either on the winter solstice (the shortest day of the year, leading into longer days and brighter times), or over the course of three days surrounding midwinter night. It appears historians cannot agree on this. My take is that some historians take what’s written in the Snorri Sturlasson sagas as historical facts, whereas others do not. What they can agree on, however, is that it was a heathen festival that has somehow “merged” with Christianity during the Christianisation of Scandinavia between year 900 and 1200.

It also appears most online sources do not know the difference between paganism and heathenry, thus use the terms as if they are interchangeable, so let us just, once and for all, clear this up: They are not. Ha. You can Google this until your heart’s content, I’m not getting into it today. But what we do know is that the Scandinavian yule traditions predate Christianity and its celebration of the birth of Christ.

What sort of traditions are we talking about here? Well, like most other nations, the Scandinavian countries have as many different variations of traditions as there are families. Norway, Sweden and Finland are all fairly lengthy from the south to the north, and narrower in the middle – the climate varies vastly. This has always affected – and continues to affect – diet, fashion choices, political views, infrastructure… you name it. So, just food-wise, Bergen residents do not have the same jule-meal as people in, say, Lillehammer. I’m inclined to think this was the case in the olden days as well.

Anyway, back to yule. (To me, to yule). The celebration of the winter solstice was in many ways a ritual that marked the beginning of the end of the darker period of the year. A feast with the best produce stored from the last autumn harvest, along with cooking up an animal sacrifice made to the gods to secure a good spring, brought the community together. Seeing as it was likely freezing and the microwave was yet to be invented, you can imagine they had to set fire to some of the foodstuffs to avoid the need for a dentist (which, spoiler alert, didn’t exist yet either), which has carried over into the Christmas pudding booze volcano tradition. I do not know of any Scandinavians that are setting fire to their Christmas dinners these days, but judging by what they eat, perhaps they should.

Any gifts were for the gods. The incessant gift-giving came with the three “wise” men of Biblical fame. There might have been the odd wreath, handmade candles or a stray straw yule goat here or there, but the decorations we see today are far from traditional and not so much linked to superstition.

The aforementioned cannibalistic yule lads of Iceland do have some similarities with the Scandinavian nisse (not to be confused with the modern day ‘julenisse’, Saint Nick/Santa Claus); nefarious barn dwellers that were after livestock, punishing naughty children and play pranks on farmers who hadn’t managed to get their shit together before the solstice. Not too different from Krampus, but smaller in size, magical and with no coal for your stocking. An evil hobgoblin dressed in red, if you may.

The nefarious creatures and superstitious decorating likely stems from needing to protect their produce and cured foodstuffs from prying eyes (and mouths) before they were ready. No wonder they were made to look like horrible little trolls. Additionally, the often long and hard winters could take their toll on just about anyone. With no medical knowledge or ways to predict logical weather patterns, superstitions such as warding off evil spirits with a wreath or a goat helped people pull through the tough times. And for those who didn’t, it was fairly easy to blame it on not having completed the seasonal rituals in time.

To finalise, the winter solstice represented a positive turn – a way out of the darkness. This was marked by a feast, with an animal sacrifice and and rituals to celebrate the gifts received from the gods in the past year, something I believe was fairly widespread in pre-Christian times. The lack of reading and writing skills around the days where Christianity thrust itself onto most any unsuspecting nation might help explain why there are so many different versions of what might have actually happened and just how the traditions merged – I suspect most people just shrugged and said ‘ I guess we’re Christians now, eh’ and got back to the grind, not really caring if they mixed a little bloodletting in with their Sunday mass.

I might investigate this further, but if I continue now, I can feel myself getting into dangerous territory. Not today.

By the way, you might be interested to know some Satanist groups celebrate Yule around the same time as the Christian holiday is observed. Contrary to popular belief, though, with no worshipping of deities of any kind. Satanists are secular hedonists – not stupid.

So, to end this on an even happier, ding-dong-merrily-on-high, note, I wish you a pleasant rest of your day, now that you’re armed with some fun new facts to dazzle your co-workers with. If you find yourself surrounded by just too many £20 notes, you can always get yourself a copy of my book – hell, even FOUR of the E-book. See you next Tuesday!

Advert-induced holiday blues? Nein danke

Do you ever have one of those days where everything just seems to turn to shit, whatever you do and no matter how well-positioned you are to averting life’s many crises? Yeah, same here. And, somehow, their occurrence appears more bountiful the closer we edge towards to the 25th of December.

If you truly love Christmas, I urge you not to read this. I’m not in the business of trying to ruin things for people who don’t deserve it. Also, this is largely an opinion piece, with very few – if any – links to other sources. If you want something more well-researched and less opinionated, you can buy a copy of my book for yourself, as a wee crimbo gift.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Everything is dark, cold and humid, every cunt on public transportation seems to have left their manners at home and are sneezing into each others gluttonous faces, without even as much as contemplating covering their mouths, and everyone is on a wild hunt for gifts for ungrateful (and very naughty) friends and family members. What was once a celebration of the birth of a bastard nail connoisseur has now become a competition of who can manage to chuck the most of their salary down the toilet in the quickest way possible.

I remember a time when any gifts were reserved for particularly well-behaved children – and often used to make particularly nefarious ones behave – and therefore not procured until after the child had upheld their end of the bargain. There were no guarantees. And if your parents were unable to afford a gift? Well, you’d go without. Perhaps you’d even treasure something homemade.

Today, on the other hand, once humble wishlists have been replaced by demands and shop registries, and friends and relatives of parents and parasite alike are told in no uncertain terms what to get them. The more you spend, the better. No surprises under the tree, and nothing that isn’t currently – or recently has been – trending on TikTok. Anyone not celebrating this atrocious holiday, for religious or economical reasons alike, are either forced to take part or shunned for refusing to spend money on something so appalling. Madness.

Don’t get me wrong – I actually love gift-giving. Hell, sometimes I even enjoy receiving them. BUT. Not just because it’s Christmas. I like to give people something from the heart, something special, so they’ll know that they, too, are special for receiving it. Sometimes that might be something I’ve made, or I’ve come across something that made me think of the person. It shouldn’t really matter. I don’t need someone else telling me what to buy for someone I love, and I don’t appreciate someone (or something) telling them that receiving something that’s not on their list is a bad thing.

It’s the goddamned adverts, man.

And it’s not just the blatant disregard of those who don’t have a whole lot of money to spend on something someone else will look at once before chucking it into a corner, never to be used or played with again. It’s the fact that these so-called Christmas adverts (why not call them what they are; the Q4 adverts? It’s not as if they are reserved for the last month of the year) sends the not-so-subliminal message that everyone has someone to spend the holidays with. Everyone can afford the foods, the treats, the fucking meaningless bloody decorations, the electric bill matched only by that of all of fucking Paris. And it is literally impossible to escape the madness, should you want (or need) to – the adverts are everywhere. On streaming services, public transportation, the supermarket, billboards and the blooming airport.

So, what does it do to those of us that simply have no time for this farce of a religious holiday? If you are a believer of the Christian faith, surely you must be appalled? The Christ mass has become nothing other than a golden calf. Then there’s those of us that for various reasons have no family of our own, or you have a non-related chosen family that does take part in the celebration. We’re normally used to, and most of us even quite content with, spending time alone, but now were bombarded with signs that there’s something wrong with us and that we are on the outside of society looking in.

Lifestyle by Homecare Services reported in 2024 that “1 in 4 adults in the UK feel lonely during the Christmas period. 52% of older people say that Christmas is the loneliest time of the year”. An article posted by Boise State University that same year, revealed that 61% of Americans experience “sadness and loneliness” during Christmas time. Imagine, if you may, how bad it must be for someone, when they’re ready to admit that. In fact, I am willing to bet that there’s at least another 10 per cent unaccounted for, in each of those surveys, that feel the same way but are not willing to subject themselves to scrutiny for revealing it.

Surely, you don’t feel any less lonely or sad when every time you go into the supermarket or a shopping centre, there’s Christmas music and images of people enjoying the holiday time and lots of people drinking and carolling and desperately clinging on to traditions that can be potentially harmful in the future, for our mental health, the economy and the environment. It just escalates the differences between us. It’s not ideal for anybody, not even those who are on the receiving end of your hard-earned money.

As you may have already gathered, around this time of year, I start thinking about what it will be like to spend Christmas on my own. A lot of us do – I’m under no illusion that I’m unique. Some of us may have chosen this ourselves, whereas others have not. And each year, if we are to believe the statistics presented in the articles above, there’s more of us. Some of us are… fine with this. I’d say most of us are fine with this, but then we’re bombarded with this illusion that everybody has to have that family connectedness, the food, the togetherness, which then leads our feeling as if we’re missing out on something.

I don’t have any solutions for this, other than trying to make my own little ritual and giving myself things to look forward to, that I can enjoy when “everyone else” is celebrating. And who’s to say you can’t celebrate on your own? Being alone doesn’t have to mean you can’t have a nice dinner and decorate your house. It’s just a little challenging to stand by your own conviction when you can’t even switch the radio on without getting Grinch-blamed.

Christmas is not my cup of tea. I don’t like the food noise, the greed, the fighting that comes from the consumerist fuckery, the endless need to numb the fact that you’ve spent more money on gifts for people whose names you can hardly remember than you have on the dentist in the past decade with alcohol… But I look forward to the things that I can do when no one else is around. I can sit down and watch a horror movie (or 10). I can go for a really long run and not have to worry about traffic. I can finally get some work done, because everybody else is off and I can do my work uninterrupted, or I can catch up with others like me. Or I can just learn to enjoy the solitude. I’ll just have to stay away from the TV, the adverts, the bus, the fucking shop, because they will get to you. They’re incessant and there’s constant noise.

And if I at some point hear the box of wine start calling my name, I thank fuck that the wine shop is closed for the hols and that I’ve got Bryony and Millie to keep me company – all I need to do is listen to their ADVERT FREE podcast episode on how to deal with all of the booze noise, and you can too if you click on this sentence.

You can read about how advertisers lure their way into your subconscious on Psychology Today by clicking this sentence.

Go to Mind.org.uk for tips on how to cope over the holidays, and learn more about others like yourself.

See you next Tuesday, for a shiny new rant.

In the meantime, you can listen to Bad Religion‘s Christmas album.

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