A Life Well Lived

December

As a large, poor family, post war, Christmases were really low key: there was no extra cash for frippery. Our decorations were home made, usually newspaper cut up into strips and, using glue made of flour and water, we children formed these into circles with which to make paperchains  to festoon around our sitting room. We loved them!  On  Christmas Eve, we children would leave a pillowcase at the end of our bed (bed sharing was obligatory in the winter) and wait, and hope, and pray ….. then, around 4am “has he been? YES”,  something heavy on our legs ….. it must be!  Sure enough our sacks were full of bounty:  little oranges, nuts in their shells and always a bag of glorious chocolate money in a golden net. Pat and I would scoff our chocs and oranges and go back to sleep!  Christmas Dinner was always rabbit, we loved it.  Four legs to share around, a huge ribcage and the sweet, sweet kidneys that Pat and I fought over. The black bitter pudding slathered in custard was  a fine ending to this festive meal.  Our presents usually included an annual, School Friend or Girls Christal or something, a sewing set  (a few reels of cheap thread in a rather grand cardboard chest of drawers), a compendium of games and a selection box.  Same every year and never disappointed. We girls would play/ read until it was time to go visiting, usually to “our Joans” or “our Doreens”. Latterly, we always went to visit my sisters inlaws too; I can remember being really affronted by Mr Pennington (Rita’s father in law) saying the awful word “kisser” as the answer to  I spy with my little eye, K. What a little prude was I!

Later, as a parent, still poor, memories of making a sweet shop for a three year old Rebecca, secretly building and equipping it with tiny scales and paperbags, begging and collecting spice jars and match boxes to fill with sweets, looking forward to me and my little girl playing shops … on the 24th, Rebecca got, up saw the shop, ate all the sweets and never looked at it again!

Another Christmas another child; this time scouring the local paper for a second hand rocking horse for Benjamin. Found one, a painted metal job on springs, just the job for a budding cowboy (my darling boy, at this stage wore a rather stylish purple hat most days which he called his cowboy hat). The moment Ben set his eyes on the mount his eyes lit up! Huge wing nuts held the four springs in place and he directly began to undo them, He loved dismantling things and the rocking horse proved to be a willing patient for him to operate on. I have no memory of him ever riding it! The bicycle I slaved in the cheese factory to buy, the dolls house that I hand painted and wallpapered … the list goes on …

Twice I moved house at Christmas. First time with nearly one year old Rebecca, into a do-er upper in Brentham Way. It had two fireplaces, no central heating and I was very concerned that although I’d asked the local coal merchant for a delivery directly we’d had confirmation of a completion day, I’d had no confirmation …  we had no telephone, working long hours, no communication  … then, at 6am Christmas morning we were awakened by loud knocking at the door and yes! Coal was delivered by a very kind man who had been made aware that we had a baby so he delivered 2 bags for us, wonderful start to our new home.

The second move, only two years later was to Southsea, Hampshire. My new beau had started work in Portsmouth, the Ealing house was sold, new house bought why not move in for Christmas.?