Round about now I often write a post about Christmas memories, so I'm sorry if you have read all this before!
Anticipation...that's the word that I need.
That's what we as children lived with for days before Christmas. We were so busy, not shopping, not playing with techy gadgets, but with making and preparing.
We spent hours glueing and sticking, making paper chains, making decorations for the tree...little walnut boats, tiny threaded bead strings, spreading silver dust all over the carpets. And of course, our tree had real candles, no Health and Safety rules then!
The house was full of warmth and lovely Christmassy smells, the pine scent of the tree, the cooking smells from the kitchen, a log fire burning and the once a year glass of sherry that my Grandpa indulged in. Grandma sang Carols as she worked.
We wrapped our parcels carefully and found places to hide the gifts we had made for our mothers and family. I don't think the parcels were at all professional, but they were wrapped with lots of love.
I remember the joy of sewing a gift for my mother. I chose a fabric, bought it from the shop, and cut out and made a frilly apron for her, all by hand.
Gifts were simpler in those days and maybe more appreciated.
One thing we did every year, just our little group of children, sister, cousins etc., was to go Carol singing on our lane. We chose a charity and practised, and neighbours were amazingly generous to our funny little singings. We always managed to collect a reasonable gift for the Charity, I think it was Missions to Seamen.
Now when I see the crowds, the TV advertisements for 'Things' and 'Food', I'm thankful for those memories of times without stress, times when the most important moment was to put up our little wooden Nativity set in front of the tree.
That was the start of Christmas.
stock photo
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