Joanna Bowman: No one likes a show off

Ah, a return to The Bubble. In spite of my fears in my last, pre-Christmas column, I managed to survive the hustle, bustle and bright lights of the city and had a lovely Christmas – thank you for asking.

And, in that question, is where my complaint lies. Like Toby, I too have taken issue with people asking how my Christmas was and what I got up to, but not because those asking don’t care what I did, rather they care far too much. Now this isn’t a thinly-veiled ‘complaint’ that my life is so fun-filled that everyone I’ve seen over the first week back wanted to know an itinerated version of my holiday, instead that the ‘what did you do in your holiday?’ question seems to turn into a competition of sorts. People aren’t emotionally invested in my holiday stories because of me, but to check that their holiday was on par – golfing metaphors have been integrated into my vocabulary since arriving in St Andrews – with my own. Rather than having a conversation where holidays are discussed in a superficial way, being polite because it is what is expected complete with noises of recognition throughout, a theme of trying to ‘outdo’ one another has emerged.

Tales of the number of friends seen and the amount of fun had are pitted against one another. Family Christmas traditions cease to be something to look forward to, instead being an easy way to have your Christmas holiday be more exciting or quirky than everyone else’s. Even the worst parts of the break turn into competitive opportunities: who had the worst weather; who received the oddest present; who had the worst argument with their family; even whose journey back to St Andrews becomes something to pit against your friends. Being surrounded by the number of Americans means that a horrendous journey back from London nor the rain of this Christmas will never be impressive at all – an eight hour train journey is nothing compared to transatlantic flights and rain is hardly an adequate adversary to a polar vortex.

If I had spent my holiday trekking in Sub-Saharan Africa or working on a film set brushing shoulders with celebrities I would be more than keen to enter the competition, but when your holiday is spent cocooned in a duvet, watching episodes of Parks and Recreation (yes, I did watch seventy five episodes), moving only for necessary nutrition, the thought of trying to compete becomes far less appealing.

We can but hope it is a uniquely first year phenomenon, and we all become so immune to one another’s tales of home that the novelty of international travel and familial tradition wears off, and the competitions cease. Or that I do something so spectacular that my stories outshine everyone else’s. Whichever.