Mercy's first Christmas in Bath in city accommodation

The year was 2023, and I had been in Bath for about ninety days when Christmas began to approach. The weeks and months leading up to Christmas were nothing short of magical. The streets and city centre were lit up with fairy lights and festive decorations. The Christmas market was alive with stalls and activities. Pop-up choirs and musicians sang classic and new Christmas songs. Christmas jumpers and bright colours filled every street, every alley, every quiet corner. It was truly beautiful.

 

There were also events organised by the University, including a traditional Christmas lunch, where I learnt that parsnips and Brussels sprouts were a key part of the meal. There were posters and constant reminders of events taking place throughout the holiday period, all designed to ensure that international students who were not travelling home would not feel alone. I particularly enjoyed the carols and Christmas services held by nearby churches such as Bath Abbey and St Mary’s Church. I sang along, completely off key, but that did not matter. Perfection was not the goal. What mattered was keeping the spirit of Christmas alive.

On Christmas morning, I realised something. While there were many celebrations and events leading up to Christmas, very few were scheduled for Christmas Day itself. This was because there was limited activity across the city, and it was a day most people were expected to spend with their families. I remember missing my family deeply and scrolling through social media, watching what my relatives and friends back home were doing. I spent a long-time watching Christmas from my window, noticing how quiet and peaceful the streets were, and experiencing Christmas in a way I cannot fully explain. It felt calm, still, and unfamiliar all at once.

 

Later, when I went into the kitchen, I noticed a box of Milka chocolate and an already opened box of Lindt chocolates with a note that read, “Happy Christmas everyone,” from one of my flatmates. That small gesture changed something within me. I realised I could either continue watching Christmas from my window or my phone, or I could try to create a new Christmas tradition. I sent a message on our shared WhatsApp group asking if anyone would like to try a Nigerian Christmas meal, with the promise that I would adjust the spice level (There is a story here and I will share at some point later). Three of my flatmates responded with interest, and I got cooking. The remaining two flatmates were not around and had already travelled home for Christmas.

 

Three hours later, we were eating fried rice and jollof rice with coleslaw and soft drinks, sitting in the flatmate’s room where we usually played games. The doors were open, the windows closed against the cold, but the curtains pulled back so we could see the streets, and the four of us celebrated Christmas together. We talked about our traditions back home, spoke to loved ones on our phones, shared stories, and slowly built new memories.

Christmas was lonely because it was different from what I was used to. I spent it without my family and away from home. But the Christmas of 2023 was also unique. I spent part of it looking out of my window, and part of it realising that I had found new people who, in hindsight, are still my friends. I was at home in a different way. I was creating new memories, not with parsnips and Brussels sprouts, but with laughter, shared meals, and new traditions.

 

I realise that this season of celebration can feel very different for you, especially if it is your first time away from home and family. But home is not fixed. It is something we carry within us. Perhaps this Christmas is an opportunity to create new traditions and memories with people from different parts of the world. Maybe your next-door flatmate is feeling lonely too. Maybe a box of chocolates and a handwritten note is all it takes to begin something meaningful. You will never know if you do not try.

Merry Christmas from us all at ResLife.