Why Do I Hate Christmas?

Words by Ryan Oxley 

As the firework displays fizzle out and the embers of bonfires turn to ashes, my thoughts turn to what is, for me, the worst time of the year: Christmas. 

For some, it’s "the most wonderful time of the year", while for others like me, it’s a period marked by stress, anxiety, and an utter dislike, make that disdain, for this awful tinsel fuelled festival of crap. There are many reasons why Christmas makes me feel less joyful and more burdensome, from the pressures of consumerism to the emotional toll of social expectations. Here’s why Christmas, a seemingly cheerful holiday, fills me with insipid dread.

First and foremost, Christmas is inextricably linked to commercialism. Let's not pretend this is a season of anything but. The holiday is promoted as a time of giving, yet this “giving” often translates into excessive shopping, overspending, and an overwhelming focus on material goods. Every shop is stocked with holiday merchandise by October, and sales, ads, and jingles urging people to buy and buy more permeate every corner of public life. For many, this overt consumerism turns the holiday into a financial burden. Christmas loses its meaning when it becomes more about flashy gifts than genuine connection, leaving some feeling that their worth is tied to what they can buy rather than the love they can share. It’s hard to feel any holiday spirit when the season seems more dedicated to corporate profits than religious goodwill. I'm not religious either which just adds to the ad nauseam. 

Then there’s the societal pressure to be constantly joyous and social. Christmas can feel like a relentless marathon of social gatherings, office parties, family dinners, and community events. The expectation is that everyone must feel festive, participate in traditions, and engage in cheerful celebrations, regardless of personal circumstances. But not everyone can easily summon holiday cheer. For those (like me) who are introverted, struggle with social anxiety, or simply don’t enjoy crowds (people or relatives), the endless social events and gatherings can feel exhausting and invasive. The pressure to "enjoy the season" creates a burden of emotional labour that feels forced and can even lead to guilt when one doesn’t feel festive.

Family dynamics during the holiday season add another layer of complexity. Christmas is often painted as a time of family togetherness, but that idealized image doesn't always align with reality. For me, family gatherings can be strained, bringing unresolved conflicts, tension, and uncomfortable interactions to the surface. Dysfunctional family relationships can feel amplified under the guise of “holiday togetherness,” making spending time with family seem more like an obligation than a celebration. And for those who have lost loved ones, Christmas can be a reminder of absence rather than togetherness, highlighting feelings of loneliness and grief. Rather than feeling surrounded by love, people may feel isolated and disconnected during the holidays.

The Christmas demand on time and energy can also be overwhelming: holiday events, decorating, gift wrapping, cooking, and hosting can take a toll, especially on those who shoulder most of the responsibility. There’s a myth that Christmas should be a “magical” time, but the reality is that creating magic requires a lot of work. Those tasked with making Christmas “perfect” often feel undervalued and exhausted, struggling to find their joy in the process.

For those who don’t observe Christmas due to different religious beliefs or cultural backgrounds, the holiday season can feel like a time of exclusion. Christmas dominates public spaces, media, and social conversations, often sidelining other winter traditions. For these individuals, the holiday can feel intrusive, a constant reminder of being different or feeling outside the mainstream.

Ultimately, Christmas can seem like a paradox: a season dedicated to joy, yet rife with stressors that can make it difficult to enjoy. For me, it’s a period I’d rather skip, looking forward to Jools Holland, the countdown clock, and the blank page of a new year. It’s important to remember then, despite societal pressures, no one is obligated to feel festive— and if anything like me, dress the dread up in nonchalant dismissal and ignore the sorry farce altogether. Why Do I Hate Christmas? Read All Of The Above. 

And... I've not even mentioned the god-awful music - I'll save that for another post. 

www.ryanoxleywriter.blogspot.com 

OASIS - TEN OF THEIR BEST SONGS?…

 

... (in my opinion) 

Words by Ryan Oxley 

News of OASIS returning to the music scene has reignited my passion for the 1990s Britpop legends. I didn't rush to Ticketmaster to be robbed by dynamic pricing as I’d seen the lads twice; once in 1997 on the BE HERE NOW tour (my first ever gig, at Sheffield Arena) and at the Etihad Stadium in Manchester for the 2005 DONT BELIEVE THE TRUTH  tour. As an original 1990s fan, I didn't have the mod hair-do, but I did have 20 Benson & Hedges, a Ben Sherman shirt, and an acoustic guitar - I was even in a band. I had all the albums on CD, and those b-sides were so strong they could have been lead singles. 

For my latest article, I thought I’d crack out an OASIS listicle and give you TEN of my absolute OASIS favourite tracks; 

10. HEY NOW: Track 8 on their second album was always a stand-out for me. Heavier than other songs on this class rock album. It’s a stunning song and not necessarily one of their most famous tracks

9.  CAST NO SHADOW: the guitar chords are very ‘Wonderwall’ and this song, apparently inspired by The Verve’s Richard Ashcroft has a strong imagery at the heart of its lyrics. 

8. GAS PANIC: 4th album syndrome it isn't, as Noel’s lament to the panic of drug addiction (from ‘Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants’) still manages to be anthemic, and could almost be a sister song to Champagne Supernova. 

7. DON'T GO AWAY: This football stadium rock anthem singalong contains all the hallmarks of an Oasis classic. Liam’s tender vocals and Noel’s masterful guitar lead remind me why the Oasis reunion is so important. 

6. ACQUIESCE: I spoke about B-Sides at the start of this article - this is what I meant. A barnstorming rock anthem, this was the other side to the band's first N0.1 single ‘Some Might Say’ 

5. HALF THE WORLD AWAY: released in 1994, as the flip-side to ‘Whatever’ this B-side is one of my favourite songs ever, never mind an OASIS track, and of course the theme tune to the BBC’s greatest ever sitcom, The Royle Family. 

4. LIVE FOREVER: the early 90s seem so far away, but many of these songs still sound so vivid and are the soundtrack of my youth. This song is stunning!: that lead riff, an all-important love song, and without a doubt, one of Liam’s finest vocal performances. 

3. SHE’S ELECTRIC: Intended as a song on ‘Definitely Maybe’  this is an OASIS track from (What's The Story) Morning Glory, and is standard on most indie radio stations, although never released as a single - a sing-a-long stonker. A story that could easily have been in The Royle Family this song is a working-class anthem, featuring Liam’s falsetto and The Beatles ‘With a Little Help from My Friends' ending. 

2. SUPERSONIC: I've a vague memory of seeing them perform this on The Word, that railway rooftop video, and what a debut - a statement of rock n roll intent that still sounds huge decades later. What a way for OASIS to start a career. 

1. SLIDE AWAY: the production of this song is different from every other song on ‘Definitely Maybe’ and it’s audible, arguably one of their finest songs. Again, we have that juxtaposition of Noels guitar/songwriting genius and Liam's incredible vocals.  

Let's hope this reuniting gives fans everything they deserve in 2025. Songs that didn't make this list would include: Wonderwall, Stop Crying Your Heart Out, Talk Tonight, Guess God Thinks I’m Abel, Dont Look Back In Anger (wildly overrated) Stand By Me, Roll With It, Fade Away … and so many more! 

What are your favourite OASIS tracks? Feel free to comment! 

www.ryanoxleywriter.blogspot.com

‘WILD GOD’- Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds ***** Album Review

 

Words by Ryan Oxley      

Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds released their latest album ‘Wild God’ at the end of last month and the reviews have been unanimous, in what has been described as a biblical return to form.

As an artist, Nick Cave has been around for decades, and so have I, yet I only recently discovered his music via the Peaky Blinders soundtrack. Heading to Spotify (a premium member), I devoured his back catalogue and became instantly enamoured. Nick Cave weaves indie music with biblical storytelling of loss, love, grief, resentment, and joy. Add a hint of gospel-tinged backing vocals and it's quite the spiritual awakening. Listening for the first time was like discovering the solo sounds of Morrissey. I have a new Wild God to worship, yet the congregation remains vaguely similar. Upon hearing that the band announced a world tour (to coincide with the release of WILD GOD) I got myself a ticket to Manchester this coming November and waited with ague for the album to be released. 

It's been a few weeks since release day and I’ve managed to come out of that ‘new album’ obsession (I’m autistic, it’s a literal obsession) and I decided to write a review of it! Here it is, track-by-track:

1. Song of the Lake - A characteristic intro synonymous with the bad seeds sound. There are no surprises here but with the gospel singing, and Cave’s ‘never mind’ lament - this is everything you’d expect it to be. This song reminds me of something from ‘Push The Sky Away’ which I discovered recently.

2. Wild God - the title track borrows from ‘Jubilee Street’ and tells a story of a ‘Wild God searching for a girl who died in 1993’ (or 2013?) the piano, gospel singing, and pounding drums are a driving force.  

3. Frogs - A slower song, released on Spotify first, as an album taster, and is my favourite from this latest Bad Seeds offering. The ‘Sunday Rain’ refrain and choral crescendo, juxtaposed with Nick Cave’s always powerful vocal, and frogmarching beat give this an extra-special feel   

4. Joy - Darkly beautiful. Some songs only need a two-word description and this is one of them. I’ll add ‘stunning’ as an extra superlative.  Some people would say this is a depressing sound, but I’d call it uplifting. ‘Have mercy on me, please’.

5. Final Rescue Attempt - an electro drone remains throughout the track (which reminds me of Jeff Wayne’s ‘War Of The Worlds’ for some bizarre reason) Imagery remains strong in Cave’s lyrics in this (now essential) Bad Seeds love song.  

6. Conversion - Atmospherically morose, Nick Cave preaches from his musical pulpit alongside gospel-esque backing vocals. If this song is ‘Touched by a Flame’ as the lyrics suggest, we’d all be on fire. It is a match-strike of a song that could have easily opened the album.

7. Cinnamon Horses - ‘ I told my friends that life was sweet’ but is it? Are the ‘Cinnamon Horses’ a metaphor for sadness, a lost love perhaps? Again, it's not an unexpected sound from Nick Cave, but those lyrics are beautiful, and that is something we should always expect from this master songwriter. 

8. Long Dark Night - Sometimes, you just need Nick Cave and a piano to deliver a song with moreish moroseness. 

9. Oh Wow, Oh Wow (How Wonderful She Is) - It's a Bad Seeds song with some electronica-type vocoder on it, which works. The audio sample is intriguing and worthy of further investigation. The lyrics don't need in-depth interpretation, and that's fine cos it’s Nick Cave - we don't need that when the music is as exquisite as this.

10.  As The Waters Cover The Sea -  is a slow and tender finish to the album. By this point, the ‘wild god’ has settled, but as a new convert to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, I’ll be worshipping this ‘Wild God’ for quite some time. 

Nick Cave is on tour for 2024 / 2025 and you can find out more on his website. 

www.ryanoxleywriter.blogspot.com

'PIS%ED!' a poem by Ryan B Oxley

This is my first published attempt at poetry. It's about being drunk, enjoying being drunk, but you've that pit to the stomach feeling that you know how vile it is, but you drink anyway.  Do let me know what you think; 

Pissed at the bus stop,

Drunk in the rain,

Sunk by that last drop,

Pissed in the rain

Pissed on the hard stuff,

Pissed to the last,

Pissed by that last drop,

Drinking to the past. 

Drunk at the bus stop,

Pissed in the rain,

Sunk by that last drop,

Drinking all the same.

Pissed at the bus stop,

Pissed in the rain,

Just missed my last stop, 

That last drop,

never again.

    (c) @rybazoxo 2022 All rights reserved. 

If you like this, you can find more of my writing at https://ryanoxleywriter.blogspot.com/

'Late Night, Sheaf Street' - A Sheffield Monologue

 'Late Night, Sheaf Street' first aired via BBC RADIO SHEFFIELD on the 10th of February 2022.

The monologue was written and performed by Ryan Oxley. (c) @rybazoxo Any unauthorised reproduction is strictly prohibited. Please email ryanoxleywriter@gmail.com if you wish to use this material

TIP - If you don't fancy reading it - you can listen to the original audio HERE 

Late night, Sheaf Street - the heart of the city, where the 5 rivers meet. Late night, Sheaf Street - a  Saturday night, one wet weekend in December. Late night, Sheaf Street was the last thing I remember...

 

The lights glared out from the Sheffield railway station forecourt that night. The lit railway station arches showcase the building's emptiness, which you can see through the glass-fronted facade. the desolate ticket offices, public toilets, out of order, and the ‘closed for cleaning’ sign that sits idly in the middle of the floor. I can see the cleaner, leaning on her mop and sipping her coffee. A taxi lays idle in rank, engine running, a radio humming; the distant sound of 'Last Orders' by Richard Hawley, followed by the late-night local news roundup. 

That was the last song I ever heard. 

It was the end of the day, and the night was in full flow. Lights glared through the emptiness of the railway building. The beauty of this Victorian train station facade is clearly visible -not that many people notice. The commuters certainly don’t. You know the type, brashly rushing and bullishly bustling through.  It’s usually the same crowd; rambunctious revellers, students straggling with suitcases, returning to uni or just returning home. the homeless person wanting some change for cheap cider, the lads in football shirts singing songs. They sing in post-match unity, before the inevitable tide turns, no doubt. They probably gave the conductor some grief before they got off the train - you know the type. MIND THE GAP means a position on the football table for them, not a safety instruction. ‘We’re all blades, aren’t we? We’re  All Wednesday aren't we?’ dual chants before the fights break out. No referee this time tho. the only assistants are the flashing lights of the boys in blue, ambulances, checks of CCTV, and appeals for witnesses on social media. R.I.P. and ‘fly safe’ they’ll post in unison and the police will issue grainy, grey, footage that’s blurry and inadmissible.

No one is gonna recognise ‘em, and at least of all, me.

 

I had seen them in fact, but I ignored them, as I walked her to her train that night, and down into the heart of Sheaf Square.

The 'Cutting Edge' Water Fountain - Sheffield Railway Station

 

‘It’s called The Cutting Edge’ init, that’ I said pointing at the railway station's water feature. Just a tidbit of Sheffield knowledge, just to keep her interested.  ‘I like watching the water flow from it’ I said, noting my own reflection in the water sculpture’s lights. She laughed - sharing with me, that infectious giggle that gets sweeter, every time I hear it. The London twang with just a dash of Yorkshire sneaking in, I acknowledged it, mimicking her dulcet tones. ‘I've been around you too long’ she said.  

Funny story really. She stole me, heart... new years eve, it was. Holding hands, and shared a kiss as the clock struck midnight. We were supposed to be in The Leadmill but we went out for a fag and some air, and they wouldn’t let me back in. Too drunk he says, this big burly bruiser of a bouncer. I wasn’t gonna argue with him, that’s for su-ure! I sez ‘reyt, come on then’  and we strolled back down towards the sheaf square fountain, past the cinema, off-licence, crossed that zebra crossing, and we took a seat outside the station itself. 

 

It’s where a few people sit, it’s just stone seats really. You get commuters standing, chatting, smoking, suitcases and bags in tow, walkers, workers, and wallflowers of commuting life. 

 

No people were waiting that night tho, apart from those football lads. 

‘Nice meeting point this? She says, Yeh, I sez ‘There’s that old forge tilt lays under us feet. At this actual spot, where the five rivers meet. Porter, Sheaf, and a few more. 

Sheffield black and white Image instagram.com/ryboxo/

‘You can listen to out for the river on platform 5 - while you wait for the train, luv’ I sez. I glance over and see my reflection in the water feature, and I see those footy lads again. 4 of em, 5 of em? They weren't standing that far away, but close enough. You could almost smell the testosterone - I knew what wa’ coming. ‘Times you train love? I say’ ‘bout 15 minutes, she laughs and replies. ‘I love how you say Luv after everything’ ‘Term of endearment’ I say ‘init’ and anyway I mean it, with you’ love. It had only been a matter of days, but the close dancing in the club, sharing of secrets on the fag breaks, heartfelt drunken declarations. We both knew what it was. We both looked around, admiring sheaf squares late-night luminous, and the moment soon passed.

Sheffield 'Megatron' under the railway station

I twiddled with my hearing aid, whilst she adjusted her lippy, both of us were suddenly sent silent with nervousness and a strange air swirled around, as the station’s automatic doors unexpectedly opened.  As I twiddled with the badge on my suit jacket lapel, - I guess it was that -or the colours on my scarf, that gave the game away, the football lads were suddenly a lot closer. Before I knew it, they were running at me. The intention was clear like they were getting ready to take a penalty. She tried to pull me away from ‘em - grabbing my suit jacket, the badge on my lapel hitting the floor. She tried but she couldn't hold them back on her own. 

I remember seeing that cleaner again, from out of the corner of my eye, which is what made the doors open.

 

My hearing aid hit the floor as I took the first punch before I fell onto the concrete forecourt with a thud to my head. I still felt the first few reigning blows though, dull pain, blurred vision. Then I felt hot, strange for a winter's night, even in Sheffield, and then I looked down and saw blood gushing from the stab wound on my chest. 

We are all blades, aren’t we? 

Then it went blank.

 

Distant voices, sirens, muffled calls for help, she's screaming my name, but I can't answer. Breathing lulls, yet I can still hear my heartbeat. My ears rushed now, like the sounds of the water, flowing through the Megatron below. Then it's outta body. I'm looking down. She's screaming and I see myself motionless by the cutting-edge water feature. 

That cleaner saw it all, they said. She consoled her until the police arrived. Tried stemming the flow with wipes and whatever from her cleaning trolley. It was evident at the inquest. They never got ‘em mind. I guess they got away. The trains don't usually stop that late - so who knows?

She leaves me flowers by the cutting edge, and she still listens for the water at platform 5.  Late night, on Sheaf Street. the heart of the city, where the 5 rivers meet. 

THE END

Written by Ryan Oxley (C) @rybazoxo January 2022