Friday 3 February 2012
There’s been a TV programme that I have mentioned before called Ration Book Britain. Tonight’s subject was Christmas. Which of course put me in mind of my childhood Christmases.
I have an early picture of myself on Santa’s Knee. I don’t look very happy; in fact I look quite fearful. Hardly surprising when you think about how a child would see the large bearded red suited man. In fact I know that a coupe of my own grandchildren were afraid too.
On Christmas Eve we’d leave some cake and a beer out for Santa, and Mum would give us a pillow case each to put at the end of our beds. Too excited to sleep, but told that ‘He won’t come if you don’t go to sleep. ‘We eventually we would of course only to wake early and crawl down to the end of the bed to discover what had been left for us.
Always in the early days would be an orange. I didn’t get the significance of this until adulthood when I realised how special this fruit would have been to our parents. One year I was desperate for a table and chair set like my best friend had. I did get one, but it was doll house size and I still remember the disappointment and Mum telling me that Santa must have misunderstood, but look doesn’t it fit into your dolls house perfectly. Every time I played with the green plastic set I was disappointed all over again. In those days parents never talked to their children about the cost of things, and their affordability. Another time my sister and I found long blue boxes that could only hold one thing. A beautiful doll. And with hair too. Plastic and washable with permanent curls. Hair that I managed to melt with Mum’s hairdryer. My doll had blonde hair and my sisters were brunette.
Christmas dinner was a shared affair with Mum’s sister and her family. One year we would go to them and the next they would come to us. Lunch was often salad, the beetroot always in the same cut glass bowl.
Jordyn is the only one of my share of your grandkids who has had a pic with santa, the other three wouldnt go near him, and here we are encouraging it when any other day we tell our kids about stranger danger. I remember my dissappointing christmas' too, getting strap on roller skates instead of the white leather boot skates like my best friend. Best friends are responsible for lots! Add to that the fact that dad then later munted one of them when he needed a ball bearing for a car thing. Grrr!! The other time was when I got a super star barbie - just what I really really wanted - and when I took her dress off to change her, the legs fell off. Worst Christmas ever. Oh, and santa now gets a chocolate milk and chocolate chip cookie.
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