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Christmas Past, present and future
22 December 2014 22:08


Christmas is getting closer - only two more working days, two more sleeps (yes, I know it is three nights but NO ONE SLEEPS ON CHRISTMAS EVE).

At work we've had our Christmas Message from the CEO - which managed to not mention Christmas at all.

We've been to two carol services - and we managed to drag CGF Sprog 3 to both. When she discovered that one would be candle-lit she commented: "I will be more entertained than I thought I would be". Want an idea to keep a thirteen-year old quiet? Just stick them in front of a lighted candle and let them watch it burn.

Some memories of Christmases Past:

Mum was very strict on the time when decorations could go up – not before the start of the school holidays. But my sisters and I would often (at least when we were old enough) be trusted to decorate the tree. Except the fairy on the top – that was always Mum’s job.

Our favourite decoration was the Angel Chimes – an ornament where the heat from candles provided the draught to turn a fan, causing metal angels to spin round, striking bells as they went past. To be honest I think I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I saw the candles lit. Most of the time we were happy to spin the angels by hand.

I can’t say that I’ve made thorough search, but it seems that most advent calendars today have chocolate behind each door. We had to make do with pictures. Not only that deprivation – we also had to make do with the same calendar year after year, until the doors became so bent that they would no longer close. Times were tough!

Father Christmas always visited – he left our presents in a pillow case. In reality, Mum filled pillow cases well before Christmas and hid them in her wardrobe. She then had to make sure she hung an empty case of the same colour in our rooms. I can remember looking out from my bed early Christmas morning trying to work out whether the pillow case had been filled – but not daring to get out of bed to check because of the draconian punishment that had been threatened if I got up too early.

From quite an early age (I was probably no more than seven or eight) my sisters and I made stockings for the ‘rents. I think that the first year we may have kept it a secret – orchestrated by Big Sis, who took a small amount of our pocket money each week in December to buy stocking fillers. Probably a bar of chocolate and one of those bath-salt cubes you could get. Then we took a Satsuma and walnut from the kitchen, and a pair of mum’s tights to put them in. This is a tradition we have kept to this day – though the presents have advanced a bit. And the family tradition is that it is only for people staying overnight on Christmas Eve – if we were to arrive at The Aged’s on Christmas Day we wouldn’t get a stocking. We have dropped the pretence of creeping into the bedroom to deliver the stocking while the recipient is asleep. We just take them in in the morning.

Christmas morning started with stockings, then breakfast, then presents. The Aged would get the gramophone out (yes, certainly in my early years, the gramophone (record player*) really was kept in a cupboard and brought out only on special occasions) and put on his Christmas record. He had only one Christmas record; I remember it well – but not fondly. The Ray Conniff Singers. If you ever get the chance to hear the Ray Conniff Singers – please don’t. They are truly dreadful. One of those ensembles of the 1960s and 1970s that made every song sound the same – in a bland lift-music sort of way. The Mike Sammes Singers and Cliff Adams Singers were other examples of the not-missed genre.

*a record player was like an iPod, except it was the size of a large microwave oven, and the music was loaded by means of a large flat black disc.

When I was a teenager Mum had returned to full-time work as a nurse and often had to work Christmas morning. She worked at a cottage hospital (what are now called community hospitals). The hospital and staff were always given numerous presents – mostly alcoholic. One of the side wards was turned into a makeshift bar (obviously they moved the patient out first) and staff families were invited on Christmas morning for a drink before one of the doctors carved the turkey at lunchtime. If we were lucky my sisters and I would manage to sneak a glass of sherry or ginger wine.

Of course, because Mum was working she couldn’t cook Christmas lunch. Sometimes Big Sis did it and sometimes The Aged would take us out for lunch – arranging with the restaurant that we would arrive late, after Mum finished work.

All this meant that the present opening had to be delayed until later in the day. One awful year when our neighbours hosted a Christmas afternoon drinks session, so we went there immediately after getting home from lunch. The event went on and on and, despite well-choreographed hints from my friends (“what did you get for Christmas, Ruby?” “I don’t know we HAVEN’T OPENED OUR PRESENTS YET”) it was well into the evening before we got to the unwrapping.

We lived in a small village, and a group of us would go carol singing. I remember once ending up at someone’s house for mince pies and mulled wine, and being taught to sing four-part harmony to silly songs (the words for three of the parts were: “you can’t put your muck in our dustbin, our dustbin, our dustbin. You can’t put your much in our dustbin, our dustbin’s full”, “fish and chips and vinegar, vinegar, vinegar. Fish and chips and vinegar, pepper pepper pepper pot” and “one bottle of beer, two bottles of beer, three bottles of beer, four bottles of beer. Five bottles of beer, six bottles of beer, seven seven bottles of beer”. I can’t remember the fourth). One year The Aged created a wooden hanger to suspend a gas lamp from for illumination. He also thought he would adopt a Victorian theme by wearing a top hat - it looked as if he were a hangman carrying the scaffold.

There was a US Air Force base near the village, and one year we were invited to their carol service. I can remember two things about the service. One was that the US had different tunes to some of the familiar carols. The other is…will let me explain. But remember that I was only eleven or twelve.

As we entered the church we were given candles to be lit while the choir sang “Silent Night” towards the end of the service. Now, I wondered whether wet candle would still light, so spent most of the service (when my parents weren’t watching) licking the wick (which sounds like a euphemism, but isn’t). Now, I don’t know whether you have ever tried to light a saliva-impregnated candle. If not, let me tell you what happen. It doesn’t light. It spits and sparks and crackles. And in a near-silent and darkened church the sound of the crackles and sight of the spits is greatly exacerbated. We weren’t invited back the following year.

And Christmas 2014 all seems a lot different – and yet also a lot similar. That’s progress. Some traditions we keep; some get replaced by new ones – and some we still do, but in a different way. Happy Christmas diarylanders.

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