I know I said I was taking a break until after New Year,but yesterday I got to thinking of Christmas when I was a child, and how it differed from now. I can’t leave it until New Year as Christmas is over then, so decided to write it now.

I was three years old. I woke on Christmas Day excited to see what Father Christmas had brought me. My tummy felt churned up. Had he been? Had I been a good enough girl to receive presents.

Then I saw him. He was wrapped in red cellophane and peeked over the edge of the pillowcase left for Santa to fill.

Teddy.

I jumped out of bed and rushed to tear open the cellophane and release him. My wonderful teddy bear. I still have him. He sits on a set of drawers in my bedroom. He now has no eyes, the moths got his paws and he’s lost his growl, but I still love him.

I can’t remember what other presents I got, but I know one would have been a book from my Mum’s friend, Auntie Catherine. She wasn’t a real aunt, but we called all family friends Auntie and Uncle. Auntie Catherine was always good for a book to read.

We caught a bus to the local town. Not everyone had cars in those days and we had to rely on public transport. The buses were every fifteen minutes past our house and the journey took around a half hour. Once at the bus terminus we walked to Grandma’s house. I confess, I don’t remember catching the bus to Grandma’s. But I don’t remember getting there any other way. There wouldn’t have been a full bus service, though.

The first thing we did was to go and inspect the Christmas Tree that Grandma had in the hall. I shivered as we entered. There was no heating there.

The tree stood tall and beautiful. Grandma had gone into a little room off her bedroom and got it out. She had the same tree for as many years as I can remember, and I loved helping to decorate it. The same baubles came out every year. I can still remember some of them, especially a bird with a tail made of some kind of fibres. The baubles, or shiny balls as we called them, we’re made of glass and had to be handled carefully. No lights, though. They weren’t common then. Maybe they weren’t available.

We had a goose for many years that Grandma cooked in the small kitchen she called the scullery. Vegetables were cooked, potatoes roasted and stuffing made. All in this tiny space.

My mum had made Christmas puddings. She always made them a year in advance so they could mature, and there was homemade mincemeat, too, stuffed into mince pies. Nothing shop bought. Of course, there were limits to what people could buy at that time. In the early 50s there was still rationing from WW2, but I don’t remember being short of anything. But I suppose many memories have blurred together in my mind.

Grandad sat in his chair in the corner of the room where everything happened. (Confusingly, Grandma called it the kitchen!) He smoked his pipe sitting by the open fire. This was the only fire at the moment. Later, just before dinner–at midday–one was lit in the front room, commonly known as The Room.

This room was only used on special occasions. Then the aunts and uncles arrived and the table was opened up and set. We all ate a good meal, but didn’t stuff ourselves. The goose was perfectly cooked, and even the sprouts tasted good. Vegetables were seasonal. Sprouts and carrots I think were the most commonly eaten. Supermarkets and goods shipped from around the world didn’t exist.

After eating and clearing up we repaired to The Room. Here we played games. When my little sister and cousins came on the scene, it was tradition for us to go around the family shaking hands and singing ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas.’ Before they were born I did it all by myself.

One game we played was Feather Football. We divided into teams and a large sheet was stretched between four people. A feather from a pillow was placed in the centre. The object was to blow it off the sheet at the opponents’ end. We also played charades, hunt the thimble and other such games.

One time I remember being blindfolded and told to stand on a board. Two uncles lifted the board.I felt my head hit something. “Ah, they’ve lifted me up to the ceiling,” I thought.“Jump off,” said one of my uncles.

“What?” I thought. “I’m up high.” But I jumped nevertheless.

Imagine my surprise when I landed immediately. The board had only been lifted a few inches. What I thought was the ceiling was a book.

Then came the singing. We were a musical family. My youngest aunt, who was a music teacher, played carols and we all joined in, singing in harmony, of course. Then everyone did their ‘party piece’.

We had fun. No TV or radio. No video games. Just everyone joining in.

I have no memory of getting home in those early days. I don’t suppose buses would be running, and Grandma didn’t have room for us to stay. Not when I was three as her two youngest children were still at home.

I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse of Christmas long ago. (Yes, it was long ago, wasn’t it. Historical to some of you.)

Please leave any comments in the comments box. I enjoy the connection we have.

Have a very Merry Christmas and an excellent New Year.