Julhygge

Michael wasn’t in the kitchen. Or the barn. Signe had already checked the parlour and the main room (now men’s and women’s quarters, respectively) and it was starting to look like he wasn’t at the farm at all. Going out, she asked a couple of people until she learned someone had seen him walk towards the rocky hill to the north of the farm. And sure enough, she found him there, sitting on the cliff and gazing towards his childhood home, and beyond, out to the sea.

“There you are! I was looking for you! Are you feeling down again?”
“I guess I am… I just realized it’s going to be Christmas soon. Or, 24th December anyway. I don’t think we’ll be having any celebrations this year either.”
“Hmm, you know what, I think we should!”
“But… everything is terrible! The world has come to an end!”

“That’s exactly why! We all deserve some hygge in the midst of all the terrible things! Sure, we probably won’t be having much of a feast, but we can bring in a Christmas tree and sing the songs! The children would love it!”
“Hmm, yeah… but if you are going to suggest it to Mathilde, please do it carefully! Remember the meltdown she had last year when Mette asked when it’s time for Christmas?”
“How could I forget! I understand her, last year was… bad.”
“You know, you are the master of understatement. Bad it was, indeed.” Michael wasn’t sure whether to be amused about Signe’s choice of words.
“I try my best! But this year is ever so slightly better, don’t you think? We are still alive, for starters. That’s something!”
“Yes, we are still alive. For now.”

The year had indeed been bad. Even with the shocking news pouring in from the mainland and from around the world, many tourists and visitors to Bornholm had chosen to return home in the first weeks, after the navy wasn’t stopping vessels anymore. But many had stayed, and there had been a lot of dispute over where to house everyone during winter, with the electricity shortage and all. There were several extra people staying on the farm (not counting Signe of course, she was practically family now) and the largest rooms of the main house had been converted to living quarters of sorts.

But room wasn’t really the issue. Food was. At first, their main concern had been infection. After they had organized the Island Watch and the sightings started, they had to fear attacks from the monsters. For a while, it hadn’t occurred to anyone to ration food – and who could blame them? It’s not like anyone ever trained for an apocalypse! But when the stores started running low and it was becoming painfully clear that no help would be forthcoming ever again, they had had to organize on the fly.

Signe had played a part in making sure everybody understood they only get their quota (the Madsens all agreed that it was better she kept watch over the food rather than cook any of it) and somehow most of their people had made it to the spring. In fact, the Madsen farm had only lost three, all of them because they ran out of essential medical supplies – one of them had been diabetic while two had lost their will to live after their pills ran out. It was better than most, and a lot better than in the northern parts of Bornholm.

They had even managed to keep enough animals to later get some lambs and piglets, and after the weather had been good enough to get a decent crop despite the many difficulties, it was now looking like they wouldn’t starve during the second winter either. Yes, it would be meager, but it should keep them all until next summer. So that surely is something!

On the 24th they did “feast”, with an extra piece of cheese for everyone. The children even got some gifts, things traded with other farms. They brought in a tree and danced around it and sang all the Christmas songs. It wasn’t much, but it was much much more than could have been expected. They had their safe-ish island, their farm, and some food for everyone. Plenty to be grateful for. So, they sang like Danes at Christmas, and taught their childhood songs to each other, late into the Christmas night.

After most people had found their beds, Signe asked Michael to step outside under the stars. There she handed him a package, wrapped in cloth. “The wrapping is my other shirt and I will be needing it back. But here’s a little something for you. Happy Christmas, Michael.”

Michael was astonished. “But, but, you didn’t need to… I don’t have anything for you!”
“Of course you don’t, you silly man!” Michael was mortified, but softly, Signe continued “You have already given me everything you have. Everything I have, and more. When you took me in, I had nothing but the clothes on my back, and yet here we are!”
“Of course I… we took you in!”

Signe continued, deep in thought. “Just to think, I was sure that with my phone, passport and credit card with me, I would be ready for anything. Ha, the definition of “anything” at the time… I even kept some cash in my purse just in case I came upon a sudden termination of employment. Everything I need right here, that was the idea. Well, much good did all those important items do!”
“We share what we have to survive, you know that better than anyone! Besides, your skills have been invaluable! The tractor wouldn’t have worked without you. And I’m sure the way you organized the food stores saved us all.”
“Oh, you flatter me! What about my cooking?”
“Oh, um, yes, I…” Michael staggered.

“Don’t worry, silly! I know cooking isn’t one of my strong suits… But I did have one useful item. Open your package now!” Signe nearly passed the oblong item to Michael but stopped mid-movement. “Oh, and when considering whether it’s suitable as a gift, please note that it’s true craftmanship! I bought it from London. Not likely we’ll be getting any of similar quality any time soon. Plus, it’s connected to an important life event. I once borrowed it to someone, and that led to the best thing I have.”

Finally, Michael got his gift and unwrapped it. It was a folded, sturdy umbrella. “May it last long and keep you dry!”
“Oh, Signe, thank you. It’s very… sturdy. Useful. But you said the best thing… do you mean..?”
“Yes, I do. Shut up and appreciate your gift now. And maybe give me a kiss.”
[hr]

The Danes actually do sing and dance around the Christmas tree! I have read accounts by Finns living there, and some say the Danes still love to do it, while others say “everybody hates it and it’s really awkward, but they still do because that’s what you do at Christmas.” But in either case, it seems like something that would bring some julhygge* into the still dire situation, without costing many resources.

Most of them also still use live candles in the tree, but as I didn’t want to burn down the Madsen farm, I didn’t mention that. And they couldn’t have afforded many in any case, this is very early days.

All in all, the Danes love Christmas! It's the highest point of hygge of the year, and they make the most of it. In Denmark, like in Finland, the 24th of December, Christmas Eve, is the most important day, when most of the gifts are given and the feasting starts. The meltdown Mathilde had had was desperation and grief over not being able to have a Christmas for the children.

* hygge is a Danish concept of coziness and comfort, enjoying the small good things in life a warm atmosphere generating a feeling of well-being and contentment. Live candles, woollen socks, a piece of wooden furniture smooth and lovely to the touch due to having been used by one’s family for decades, handmade cookies. You know the drill. Hopefully

     “I need help.” Reynir looked up from his breakfast to see Emil pacing the floor. Seeing as he hadn’t bothered to brush his hair this morning, it must be serious.
     “I’m all ears,” Reynir told him, handing him a bowl of porridge. Emil groaned dramatically and buried his face in his hands.
     “Every year, Aunt Siv and Uncle Torbjörn throw this huge holiday party with friends and family. But this year…” Emil paused to drape his arm over his forehead. “I found a book about the Old World holidays to read to my cousins while I was babysitting them. One in particular caught their attention. It was called Christmas. Those brats couldn’t keep their mouths shut and told Aunt Siv they wanted to celebrate Christmas like in the Old World. Aunt Siv thought it was a wonderful idea to do instead of our regular celebration and put me in charge of organizing it! I’m doomed.” Reynir patted his arm supportively.
     “It can’t be that bad.” Emil's eyes widened.
     “You don’t understand how much work this is! I have to decide who to invite! Then plan the invitations! Plan the food and the seating charts! The flower arrangements!”
     “Flower arrangements?” Emil flapped his hands.
     “You know what I mean! Aunt Siv and Uncle Torbjörn’s parties are always a huge hit! If I screw this up I’ll be the laughing stock of the family for years! I’ll never be able to live it down! My reputation will forever be tainted with this failure!” There was a dramatic pause. Then, it was interrupted by a shuffling sound; Lalli, coming home from his night scout job. He grabbed a piece of toast, glanced at Emil draped across the table muttered “Stupid,” and went to bed.
     “That was anticlimactic,” remarked Reynir.
     “Shut up,” grumbled Emil, “and help me plan this thing.”


Emil gathered the entire crew around the kitchen table.

     “I have brought you all here today,” announced Emil, “for a very important reason. I have exactly one week to plan a holiday party with the theme of Christmas, an Old World holiday. Never fear, I have a book about the ancient traditions that I can use to plan. But I am going to need help. Lots of help. So, are you guys in?”

     “Are you kidding?” asked Sigrun. “We’re a team, of course we’re in.” No one objected to Sigrun volunteering them.

     “Right,” started Emil, “so I was thinking that we should wear costumes representing the different parts of Christmas.” He opened the book to an illustration of an old fat man on a flying sleigh. “Apparently, this guy’s called Santa Claus. He delivers presents to all the good kids and coal to the bad kids. He lives in the North Pole with his wife Mrs. Claus and a bunch of tiny elves that make the toys.” He looked up at Sigrun and Mikkel hopefully. “So would you guys want to be our Santa and Mrs. Claus?” Sigrun patted his arm confidently.

     “Say no more little man, we got this covered.” Emil sighed gratefully. “Does anyone else have any idea of what costume they could wear?”

     “I have a reindeer costume!” piped Reynir. 

     “Why do you have a- nevermind. Reindeer, check.” All that was left was his and Lalli’s costume. He flipped through the book, trying to find something that Lalli would wear without complaint. This threw most of the options out the window. He snickered as he imagined trying to convince Lalli to wear a snowman costume. In the end, he put down him and Lalli as elves. He’d figure out how to convince Lalli to wear tights later.


The day of the party came, and Emil was feeling confident that everything was going according to plan. All of the guests had arrived, the tree was set up and decorated, candles shining on the branches. There was a chimney with socks hanging on the mantelpiece, and The Crew should be here any minute. He should have known it was too good to be true.

     “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” Sigrun exclaimed as she barged into the door. She was wearing a red coat and hat, a pillow stuffed underneath her shirt. A fake beard made of cotton balls was hanging from her face. Mikkel followed wearing a white wig and a long red dress, lugging a bag of cheap presents they had acquired for the kids. This was not what I imagined when I asked them to be the Clauses, Emil thought. Reynir arrived shortly after, wearing a reindeer onesie and some red makeup on his nose. He wasn’t sure where Lalli was, he had disappeared as soon as he had arrived. He was about to go look for him, but he was distracted by panicked yelling by one of the guests. The tree had caught fire. Everything went a bit blurry for the next few minutes, but they managed to put out the fire with minimal scorching on the walls. It was a pathetic sight, charred needles and tinsel, ornaments sagging from the drooping branches. After that fiasco, it felt like time to bring out the cookies, but when he walked into the kitchen, he found that half of them were gone. A munching sound came from under the table cloth. He looked under, preparing to scold one of his cousins.

     “Lalli!” he yelled in shock. “Why did you eat half the cookies?”

     “You promised cookies if I wore ridiculous costume. I eat cookies.” Emil tugged at his hair.

     “But not the ones meant for the guests!” Lalli shrugged in apology.

     “I won’t eat any more cookies then.” The rest of the evening went fairly smoothly, with (what was left of the) cookies distributed to the guests, and the smaller kids receiving their gifts. Emil was a bit startled when Onni knocked at the door. He hadn’t responded to his invitation, so Emil had assumed he wasn’t coming. When he had asked Onni about why he didn’t RSVP, he had just given Emil a blank stare. When the guests had finally all left, he collapsed on the couch and let out a sigh of relief. His cousins jumped in his lap and announced that that had been the best party ever. Emil grinned half-heartedly.

     “I’m glad you think so. But I am never planning a Christmas party again.” With that being said he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.