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Stories of Christmas

Recently, I had the wonderful opportunity to interview readers about their childhood Christmases, and I was touched by many of the similarities and fascinated by the differences.

After delving so deep into the early days of others, I felt it only fair that I share my own, which I will begin with and follow with the reader’s stories, that touched my heart.

1985

As a whipper-snapper, Christmas was a magical time. The household I grew up in usually had at least two radio sets blaring out at once, if not more. Classics such as Live Aid and Wham rang out, and Christmas Eve was the most exciting time of the festive season – would I catch a glimpse of Father Christmas? Or more importantly, his fleet of beautiful, dazzling reindeer racing through the night skies against a backdrop of black velvet and highlighted by the huge, glowing moon?

I’d leave out a mince pie, a glass of milk for Mr Claus and a carrot for Rudolph the reindeer. I’d want to leave six on the table, one for each majestic beast, but I was told I shouldn’t overfeed the reindeer as they would eat at every house and too much food would weigh them down. My Dad was definitely not scoffing the mince pie and chucking the carrot back in the fridge! 

I would peer out the window, often creeping out of bed so I could tell everyone I had seen them! Eventually, I would fall asleep and be convinced that I had got my timings all wrong. I was desperate to pet the reindeer!

I had 101 questions – at least about how Santa operated. How would he get down the chimney when we had a grate before the fire? How can that be the real Santa when we saw four different ones in the other shops? Didn’t his reindeer get tired? How could they fly so quickly? As a child with ADHD, I could rattle off questions for hours, seeking ways to meet the legend of Santa! Mum was usually in the kitchen trying to wrap presents, cook for an army and decorate the tree so she’d say, “Go ask your Father,”

Dad would usually be listening to records, be several pints in and would have some very convincing answers, happy to entertain my curious nature whilst tipsy on Christmas spirit – and sometimes more concentrated spirits!

Christmas day, I would open presents in the morning, once my parents surfaced, looking exhausted.

Barbie dolls and My Little Pony were very popular in the 80s.

I had two older sisters, so for a lucky year, if things were going better economically, I may end up with a Sindy doll and a game such as Etch-A-Sketch as well. This would alleviate a great deal of the disappointment of not catching Santa do his rounds and soon I’d be distracted by the morning viewing – Yogi Bear, The Snowman, Gremlins or Santa Claus The Movie. Often shows were taped on VHS in case they were missed. Younger readers will not remember these, but they were plastic, rectangular-shaped recording devices you would put in a video tape player!

Hollywood enchanted yet baffled me. In American films, the Snow would always miraculously fall on Christmas Eve, miracles took place and everyone sang and danced. I’d glance out of the window, befuddled at the lack of snow, gazing into the grey drizzling sky, waiting for the frosted flakes to fall. I was so naive, I reasoned living in America must be like living in Wonderland. After seeing Gremlins for the very first time, I pleaded for a real-life Mogwai. When I was finally convinced they didn’t exist, my heart was quite broken, for a short time. Ok, I’ll be honest – I’m still not quite over that, but someday I hope to be!

Another favourite part of Christmas for me was the decorations. Mum took charge of the tree and took time to make it dazzle with endless strings of twinkling fairy lights, tinsel shining between the branches and about 20 tons of silver, snow-tipped baubles, which would weigh down the branches. It would be bedlam in the house but looked enchanting when complete.

Dad was in charge of ceiling decorations and boy – it really was the time of year he went to town! Every inch of the lounge ceiling would be covered in shiny garish red, gold and green configurations – just like the Boy George song Karma Chameleon, which I sang every time they went up! Mum loathed those decorations, but I adored the hideous, plastic atrocities and would become hyperactive with excitement as the ceiling became a clashing glow of shimmering colours. To my young mind  – it was just like in the movies!

Nan and Grandad would always come over for Christmas dinner.

One year they brought me ‘A Punch and Judy puppet show (since deemed too violent for kids). Tearing my attention away from the Princess and the Policeman to eat Christmas dinner almost felt like a punishment! As a sort-of-adult now, I wish I had paid more attention and appreciated them more as I didn’t get to have enough Christmases with them. That’s what life teaches you – the importance of being in the now.

A typical meal would be roasted beef or chicken, crispy roast potatoes with a fluffy centre and sprigs of broccoli, carrot batons and sprouts with lashings of gravy. I was never particularly excited by food back that as had a meagre appetite but always found room for dessert. My favourite veered away from traditional puddings and often we’d have Vienetta ice cream, which was the dog’s danglies to me.

Alcohol was popular at Christmas with adults, and they’d often be gibbering nonsense by bedtime, which I thought was rather oddball behaviour as an ankle biter. As a teenager, I tutted and rolled my eyes, but have since found out it can be rather a lot of fun on the odd occasion! 

We didn’t tend to watch the Queen’s speech (although I did later as an adult) but we would watch comedy shows in the evening, or I would absorb myself in a good book, such as The Little Christmas Tree or The Famous Five, borrowed from the local library. 

At the end of the day, every year without fail, Dad would say, “Ah well, all over now. That’s it till next year,” and until I was 9, I lived in hope I’d see Father Christmas. Ok, I promised I’d be honest, here goes, yes I still peek out of the window  – just in case! 24th December 2024 will be no different, I’ll cast my eyes towards the moon, and regardless of what I see, the spirit of Christmas will be alive in my heart. I hope you can feel it too. I’m sending all my readers a huge big ray of energy and wishing your Christmas is full of wonder and cheer.

Reader’s Stories

The 50’s, England – JB

I was born in 1954, first half of the 60’s was the era for me.

The main tradition was the visit to my father’s sister. In the lead-up to Christmas, we studied the Radio Times (never the TV Times) to see what was on. There were only two channels, the main highlight was the big Christmas film, a Bond film was the best hope and of course the Queen’s speech.

Presents were after breakfast, my father bought my mother the same thing every year, it was a case of 12 ½ bottles of Bollinger Champagne.

Dinner was a combination of turkey, gammon plus all the trimmings, followed by Christmas pudding and brandy sauce made by my father, served in bowls with a sixpence hidden in each portion. 

Turkey sandwiched between brown bread, was prepared by my mum and grandmother in the evening, crafted with love and thinly sliced. My father even allowed us to drink Coca-Cola. He bought a case in the classic bottles. The adults had snowballs (not that sort) Advocaat and lemonade, the teenagers Babycham and CherryB.

The tradition of eating on Christmas Eve with our own children many years later included fireworks, which were to signal to Santa where we lived. My Uncle married a German lady he met after the war, and they celebrated Christmas dinner on the 24th of December. It was a simpler time. 

The 70’s England KV

My favourite memories… 

Waking up on the Sunday before Xmas and seeing your mum had decorated the Xmas tree with wonderful, bright plastic ornaments and lots of chocolate figures, which weirdly would disappear and then you’d find the wrappers in the dog’s bed! The green branches would disappear in a mist of white floss which mum adored and you’d see lots of beautiful sparkling light shimmer through.

Dad would take us up to the newsagents up the road and we’d come back with lots of paper decorations, bearing a price tag of 7pence.

Once home, Dad would start festooning the ceiling with colourful decorations, which looked like lots of concertinas flying across the room. He’d spend ages putting them up and even more time reattaching them to the polystyrene ceiling tile when they fell. It almost looked like a Bedouin tent at a lavish wedding! Health and safety today would have condemned the room!

All gifts from aunties and uncles would be under the tree and within a couple of days, my sister and I would have sneakily opened the gifts and then put them back together as best as we could, without anyone noticing. Bizarrely, several times over the years a particular gift that I’d secretly opened with my name on, had my sister’s name tag on when it came to Xmas day.

Mum and Dad would always take us to see Father Xmas in Debenhams and we would be given an exciting new toy or game. One year the old fella gave me a gun, which my parents thought was hilarious. 

Wizard bellowed out loudly in the run-up to Xmas. “Let the bells ring out for Xmas!” was all the neighbours would hear from Dad’s gramophone and then in later years, it would be Slade – “Oh here it is merry Christmas…” 

A few times, I heard my dad helping Santa get our gifts through the loft and Mum getting a bit stressed with the pair of them! Sadly, I never heard Santa speak, only Mum and Dad having a bicker.

Top of the pops and the Queen’s speech was the highlight of my Xmas day and in later years, the EastEnders explosive Xmas day episode was always something I relished. 

One of my favourite Christmas days was when I got a push-chair and a baby doll for Xmas – I didn’t let it leave my side.  Nan knitted me the most gorgeous cardigan, which I named –  my lamb chop cardigan.

The 70’s England – Penny 

I was a sullen child (signs I was a domme were from very early years!) 

My mother and sister tried very hard to make Xmas magical. One year they made soot footprints from the fire to the tree and back. The following morning I declared with glee – “Oh he’s been has he!”

My mother never removed the price sticker from gifts. I couldn’t play with them until I had removed every sticker.  We always had a real tree, getting the lights to work was a family affair, and then I would spend the rest of the month hoovering up pine needles. Nanna always came for Xmas dinner. My mother is an exceptional cook, so we would always have a feast but raced to be the first to select the green triangles from the Quality Street tin! 

We were given a stocking at the foot of our beds and my sister would come into my bedroom in the morning, so we could pillage them together. There was always a tangerine, a selection pack and a book. When it was not too early to wake our parents we would wake them up so we could go and do presents. Dad was always the one to hand out gifts and after we’d use the wrapping paper to light the fire. Carol singers came to the house and we’d go carolling too. Midnight mass was a tradition for us. Mum and Dad usually came straight from the pub normally 3 sheets to the wind.

Snowballs to drink was a special treat and I still honour this as it’s not Xmas for me without my Snowball!

Cracking nuts was a fond pastime and dinner was a traditional turkey and all the trimmings. We would spend the evening digesting it all like a family of anacondas!

The 70’s, Spain  – CF 

In Spain, we didn’t have Santa Claus. Instead, we had the Three Magician Kings bringing gifts to the children on the 6th of January. That is why the Christmas school holidays go from December 24th till January 6th. On the negative side, children got their presents on the final vacation day, so we didn’t have enough time to enjoy them before returning to school. Due to this, we started shifting the gifts to Christmas Day later in my childhood. This would change around sometimes.  Some would give a gift on Christmas Day, and another on January 6th. This way, children would have two weeks to enjoy the presents they would get on Christmas Day. Still, the magic of January 6th was so present everywhere: kids would go to bed early and fantasise about how the Three Magician Kings would come in the night and leave all the presents there. I imagined them coming by helicopter and accessing our flat through the windows. Once we were in bed, our poor parents would start bringing out the gifts (not only for us but for the whole family). 

In the morning we would be so nervous that we would wake up quite early (about 8 am) and wonder if we could still see the Magician Kings, but no, we never saw them. It was so magical to see the couch, the armchairs and the table full of gifts! We were so eager to open them and find out what we got! After that, we would have breakfast and later we would go to visit our relatives, and we would have a similar scene at all these places: gifts everywhere for everyone. Such happy times! 

Now I have tears in my eyes. My family had a very low income during my childhood, so my parents could hardly fulfil our dreams. My aunts and grandparents could sometimes afford to buy my brother and me the action figures we wanted, but my parents could not buy the accessories (like the tent and the rucksack). My father was very skillful at carving Wood and building metal frames, and so was my mother at sewing clothes. I got the tent for my action figure because they had made it themselves: my father built the frame with thin metal poles inserted into small wooden cubes, and my mother sewed some hard cloth to the frame, which made a believable toy tent. Unfortunately, children are selfish and unable to appreciate those sacrifices, especially when they are not aware that it is their parents who are making the effort. So after that hard work, my parents had to listen to my complaints, because the tent did not have the logo of my action figures and it didn’t look like the real one. Only when I was already in my thirties was I able to fully appreciate all these sacrifices that my parents had made for me and my brother. The traditions that never changed were: having a superb family dinner on Christmas Eve and having a wonderful family lunch on Christmas Day. Please notice that in Spain lunch is the biggest meal of all, takes place after 2 pm, and the dinner is also quite heavy and after 9.30 pm. Dinners would usually be something like roasted lamb, roasted chicken, pork, sea bass, or lots of shellfish – not all of this, but either one of these or perhaps a combination of two or three of them. In my case, we would go to my grandma’s place to have Christmas Eve dinner and the next day my mother would cook the Christmas lunch. Christmas Lunch is most likely a typical Spanish dish called “Cocido” (literally, “cooked food”). It is a very simple récipe: potatoes, celery, carrot, chickpeas, meat, chicken, chorizo, and cook them all for a long time. Delicious. Funnily enough, there is no special meal on January 6th.

Kaz B

Writer, podcaster, creator

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