December 2014.
The bus pulled out of the depot and edged its way through to the main road, to join the cluster of traffic heading south into the city. The afternoon sun was slicing through the thin mist and piercing through the huge front window of the upper-deck and stinging my bleary eyes.
The previous night had been a heavy one.
I had arrived in Oxford on Saturday afternoon and had subsequently embarked on a night of heavy drinking. I was visiting an old friend, who had planned a walking/ pub tour of the city. The tour began that afternoon with a host of bars, sites and Christmas-themed attractions on the agenda.
One such attraction was a Christmas light show situated in the Botanical Gardens in the city. Our visit coincided with the recent felling of a large pine tree, with its limbs surrounding us, nestled peacefully on the grass, beneath the twinkling lights. Said pine tree was said to have been a particular favourite with J.R.R.Tolkien (the tree had once featured in a famous photograph with the author) and was, therefore, billed as being the 'star attraction' of the event. Furthermore, the detached pine cones had been collected and were being offered as souvenirs, with the opportunity to have them glazed with glitter and adorned with string, thus transforming them into Christmas decorations. I remember the child-like thrill of obtaining a pine cone, slathering it with glue and showering the glitter accordingly, all the while filled with gratitude that I would get to keep this gift beyond this night.
The event was glorious; the avenues of trees festooned with lights standing so quaint and serene in the darkness, amidst the chill of the December air. One could really taste the flavour of 'the magic of Christmas' in that scene and I remember allowing myself to sink further into the spirit.
Leaving the Botanical Gardens, our tour continued. We weaved our way through the narrow streets, often appearing in and out of pubs along the route, right through to the early hours of Sunday. Naturally, my memory becomes hazy, in patches. However, I do remember being introduced to The Varsity Club's rooftop bar/ terrace (located above the covered market in the city centre). I recall traversing the many steps to the top of the building, and walking out into the brisk evening chill and being struck by the sheer spectacle of the view across the rooftops and spires. The memory of standing braced against the cold wind, wrapped up in a jacket, with a mulled wine in gloved hand, still stirs a fondness within me.
Mulled wine turned into regular wine, turned into cocktails.
Sunday morning hit me like a hammer. I was slouched on the upper-front seat of the bus, with my head resting against the glass. I was listening to the recently released The Inevitable End by Norwegian band, Röyksopp and, feeling drenched in the warmth of the music, allowed myself to sink back against the cushioned upholstery.
I had been a huge fan of Röyksopp for many years, but this bias didn't influence my immediate adoration for this album. The entire collection exudes warmth, drama and emotion while conjuring wonderful images of pain, fear and regret. The album evokes so many emotions, feelings and atmospheres, which are often at odds with the tones of the world outside of the album, and yet, seem to fit so incredibly comfortably within in. It is, quite simply, a masterpiece.
There are so many tracks that I could mention and discuss at length (such as 'Sordid Affair', 'Something in My Heart', 'Save Me', 'Thank you' and 'Compulsion'), for having affected me so strongly. However, no other track perfectly encapsulates the tone and sentiment of the album as a whole, nor has any other track on the album affected me to such a great extent as 'You Know I Have To Go'. This arguably simple love song, where the singer is declaring how their departure is the only way to preserve their love, is lifted and enriched through a dense, smooth and expansive landscape of sound touched with the delicacy of melody and emotion. Listening to this track, even today, makes me want to cry and smile, all at once.
It almost shames me to think that I somewhat sullied the artistry of this album, by listening to it while in such a foul and sorry state of affairs. However, I have to say, The Inevitable End represents more to me than just that weekend, and always will.
So moved was I by that weekend, or, more specifically, by the amalgamation of sounds and visuals that I had experienced, that I made the decision to return to Oxford every December. Naturally, my annual visits became a Christmas tradition.
Years later, the pine cone has since taken on another identity and location. Today, it hangs solitary on my bedroom wall; a stark personification of the existence that I myself have seemed to inhabit as of late. And, maybe, that was always its purpose – to act as a grim foreshadowing of my fate. And, yet, it sparkles. It has, somehow, retained its glitter after all this time. Sure, some of the grains have since fallen and/or vanished. But, many remain.
I am, unfortunately, unable to enjoy my tradition this year, nor will I be able to imbibe in my personal festive wonderments. But, I remain hopeful. I have to hope that joy, warmth and spirit will return, even after these sour times, where our comfortable way of life constantly seems to be reaching towards its natural conclusion. For me, The Inevitable End holds the transitory qualities to remind me of times where one could reach out and touch the many wonders of winter, and, ironically, allows me to revive this spirit into tomorrow's new world.
The pine cone survives, it's glitter remains sparkling.
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