I sit writing this listening to classical Christmas carols and music, reminding me of how my Christmases of childhood were, full of music and carols.
Music was important to my Mom and to her family. There was piano both at home, at my maternal Grandparents and also my Uncle's homes. Mom could be heard making her preparations singing at the full throttle of her glorious soprano voice, either singing for the sheer joy of it or practicing for choral concerts or carol services, as there was always a choir that she belonged to. A consequence is that there are very few carols and Christmas songs that I do not know all the words to! Mr Bennett, the Head Teacher at Redhouse Junior School can take some credit too. Wednesday mornings at school were hymn practice and Mr Bennett appeared to enjoy banging the keys for all they worth, from one end of the keyboard to the other, singing with gusto the hymns and carols that he was teaching us.
For a few Christmases in succession my siblings and I along with Mom, Dad, my Uncle and Aunt and some of their friends, went around Council run elderly people's homes to sing a few carols. Some were in old Victorian houses and some purpose built homes where we would stand in the stair wells with all the doors open so every resident could hear from ground to top floors. On the whole I think these visits proved popular with the residents apart from the year when our visit coincided with the final episode ever of Upstairs Downstairs and I would leave having had my head flattened from the pats on the head I received.
As Christmas day approached my Grandmother would go into baking overdrive and a frenzy of activity could be joined in her kitchen making cakes and mince pies, she always encouraged us to join in and help, a direct opposite of my Mother who preferred to do these things on her own. Mind Mom had a tiny kitchen, not enough room to swing a cat as she often told us whilst Nan's kitchen had a table and chairs, although on reflection, it too was small. I can still taste Nan's pastry now, such a light touch she had. Her mince pies were to die for and I recall sneaking into her walk in pantry, quietly opening one of the tins and then devouring a mince pie in one.You couldn't do that too often though as she would notice!
I now know that my Mom used to wind the clock forward once I had learned to tell the time, so that there was no argument over bedtimes. The clock said seven and therefore you went to bed. Goodness knows how early we were actually put to bed on Christmas Eve in order to allow her some peace, quiet and valuable adult time!
I never ever found where Mom hid the presents prior to Christmas Day however, I suspect I didn't look because Mom was the most convincing story teller ever. When we saw the odd present that had been purchased she told us that it had to be put out on the roof for Father Christmas to collect prior to Christmas Eve. Apparently he had a special airplane specifically for the purpose and took all the presents to the North Pole where he held them with the other presents and of course if we didn't behave and we ended up on the naughty list, those presents would not be delivered on the special night.
Christmas morning was a wonder and a delight. Despite the fact that I was one of the naughtiest children ever, Father Christmas always came up trumps and made the journey to my bedroom. I think that he knew that in my heart I wanted to be good but just found being good extremely difficult. Our presents were delivered in sacks (pillow cases) and left at the end of our beds, with larger presents being placed downstairs. Despite my exuberance and innate mischievousness I would never under any circumstances start opening my presents from the sacks until I had been told that I could. The consequences were to severe to risk! I still think it may have been a 6am start for Mom and Dad though! I would lie in my bed, shuffling down towards the bottom and feeling with my toes for that sack of delights, unable to return to sleep, whilst the smell of the turkey roasting over a very low heat overnight drifted upstairs from the kitchen, making my stomach ache for the delights of the feast to come.
My Grandfather would have been busy in the weeks before Christmas renovating and painting larger presents such as prams, pushchairs, miniature wheelie shopping trolleys and one year a bicycle, that were all purchased second hand and making them look brand new. The discovery that this was done came many years later. I had no idea that some of my presents were not brand new. It didn't matter, I was always so delighted with everything that I had.
Presents that still stick in my mind 50 years later. The poncho that Auntie Edna had crotched at the time when ponchos were the height of fashion. Sindy doll and accessories and in later years the clothes that my Auntie Val made and knitted for them. Fuzzy felt, I loved those. My first bicycle - freedom! The Tiny Tears my sister got one year, I was so jealous! Felt tip pens, the height of sophistication. Spirograph, oh my, I spent months trying to reproduce the patterns and never really succeeded.
Once the sacks of presents had been opened it was downstairs to open the 'big stuff' but we waited whilst Mom made up the coal fire in the living room. All morning we would be playing with our new toys whilst Mom got on with Christmas dinner. Dad would drive over to my Grandparents mid morning to pick them up and then he and Grandad would disappear to the pub/club at noon for a pint or two. Mom and Nan would put the finishing touches to the dinner and then the feast would be on. Like everyone my Mom made the best Christmas dinner ever!
Everyone would be dressed in their 'best clothes'. Me and my sister would have a brand new dress to put on and my brother I recall would have new trousers, a shirt and dicky bow tie. Mom would be totally glamorous, nails and hair done, make up supreme and of course, a new dress, whilst Nan who never wore make up would have had her hair done the night before by Mom. The men would all be in suits, wearing ties which, as the day progressed, gradually loosened.
We would have to be quiet whilst the Queen did her speech at 3pm, then time for the Christmas Day film and then before you know it, Mom and Nan would be loading the table with yet more food for our Christmas tea.
Boxing Day we would go to my Grandparents house or one of my Uncle's homes. I enjoyed Boxing Day almost as much as Christmas Day, cold turkey, pickles, chocolate, cakes, pies, songs around the piano, board games. No doubt there were upsets, squabbles and arguments but fortunately I don't remember them.
Every time I listen to carols, I hear my Mom singing. She loved Christmas and as a Christian it meant a lot to her, the celebration of the birth of her Saviour. I hear her singing and I remember. I miss her so very much at this time of the year and I also miss all those who are no longer here; my Grandparents, a huge swathe of Great Aunties and Uncles who were always there on the fringes, well except Auntie Doris who could never be sidelined! As long as I live all these wonderful people will be remembered and not just at Christmas.
Music was important to my Mom and to her family. There was piano both at home, at my maternal Grandparents and also my Uncle's homes. Mom could be heard making her preparations singing at the full throttle of her glorious soprano voice, either singing for the sheer joy of it or practicing for choral concerts or carol services, as there was always a choir that she belonged to. A consequence is that there are very few carols and Christmas songs that I do not know all the words to! Mr Bennett, the Head Teacher at Redhouse Junior School can take some credit too. Wednesday mornings at school were hymn practice and Mr Bennett appeared to enjoy banging the keys for all they worth, from one end of the keyboard to the other, singing with gusto the hymns and carols that he was teaching us.
For a few Christmases in succession my siblings and I along with Mom, Dad, my Uncle and Aunt and some of their friends, went around Council run elderly people's homes to sing a few carols. Some were in old Victorian houses and some purpose built homes where we would stand in the stair wells with all the doors open so every resident could hear from ground to top floors. On the whole I think these visits proved popular with the residents apart from the year when our visit coincided with the final episode ever of Upstairs Downstairs and I would leave having had my head flattened from the pats on the head I received.
As Christmas day approached my Grandmother would go into baking overdrive and a frenzy of activity could be joined in her kitchen making cakes and mince pies, she always encouraged us to join in and help, a direct opposite of my Mother who preferred to do these things on her own. Mind Mom had a tiny kitchen, not enough room to swing a cat as she often told us whilst Nan's kitchen had a table and chairs, although on reflection, it too was small. I can still taste Nan's pastry now, such a light touch she had. Her mince pies were to die for and I recall sneaking into her walk in pantry, quietly opening one of the tins and then devouring a mince pie in one.You couldn't do that too often though as she would notice!
I now know that my Mom used to wind the clock forward once I had learned to tell the time, so that there was no argument over bedtimes. The clock said seven and therefore you went to bed. Goodness knows how early we were actually put to bed on Christmas Eve in order to allow her some peace, quiet and valuable adult time!
I never ever found where Mom hid the presents prior to Christmas Day however, I suspect I didn't look because Mom was the most convincing story teller ever. When we saw the odd present that had been purchased she told us that it had to be put out on the roof for Father Christmas to collect prior to Christmas Eve. Apparently he had a special airplane specifically for the purpose and took all the presents to the North Pole where he held them with the other presents and of course if we didn't behave and we ended up on the naughty list, those presents would not be delivered on the special night.
Christmas morning was a wonder and a delight. Despite the fact that I was one of the naughtiest children ever, Father Christmas always came up trumps and made the journey to my bedroom. I think that he knew that in my heart I wanted to be good but just found being good extremely difficult. Our presents were delivered in sacks (pillow cases) and left at the end of our beds, with larger presents being placed downstairs. Despite my exuberance and innate mischievousness I would never under any circumstances start opening my presents from the sacks until I had been told that I could. The consequences were to severe to risk! I still think it may have been a 6am start for Mom and Dad though! I would lie in my bed, shuffling down towards the bottom and feeling with my toes for that sack of delights, unable to return to sleep, whilst the smell of the turkey roasting over a very low heat overnight drifted upstairs from the kitchen, making my stomach ache for the delights of the feast to come.
My Grandfather would have been busy in the weeks before Christmas renovating and painting larger presents such as prams, pushchairs, miniature wheelie shopping trolleys and one year a bicycle, that were all purchased second hand and making them look brand new. The discovery that this was done came many years later. I had no idea that some of my presents were not brand new. It didn't matter, I was always so delighted with everything that I had.
Presents that still stick in my mind 50 years later. The poncho that Auntie Edna had crotched at the time when ponchos were the height of fashion. Sindy doll and accessories and in later years the clothes that my Auntie Val made and knitted for them. Fuzzy felt, I loved those. My first bicycle - freedom! The Tiny Tears my sister got one year, I was so jealous! Felt tip pens, the height of sophistication. Spirograph, oh my, I spent months trying to reproduce the patterns and never really succeeded.
Once the sacks of presents had been opened it was downstairs to open the 'big stuff' but we waited whilst Mom made up the coal fire in the living room. All morning we would be playing with our new toys whilst Mom got on with Christmas dinner. Dad would drive over to my Grandparents mid morning to pick them up and then he and Grandad would disappear to the pub/club at noon for a pint or two. Mom and Nan would put the finishing touches to the dinner and then the feast would be on. Like everyone my Mom made the best Christmas dinner ever!
Everyone would be dressed in their 'best clothes'. Me and my sister would have a brand new dress to put on and my brother I recall would have new trousers, a shirt and dicky bow tie. Mom would be totally glamorous, nails and hair done, make up supreme and of course, a new dress, whilst Nan who never wore make up would have had her hair done the night before by Mom. The men would all be in suits, wearing ties which, as the day progressed, gradually loosened.
We would have to be quiet whilst the Queen did her speech at 3pm, then time for the Christmas Day film and then before you know it, Mom and Nan would be loading the table with yet more food for our Christmas tea.
Boxing Day we would go to my Grandparents house or one of my Uncle's homes. I enjoyed Boxing Day almost as much as Christmas Day, cold turkey, pickles, chocolate, cakes, pies, songs around the piano, board games. No doubt there were upsets, squabbles and arguments but fortunately I don't remember them.
Every time I listen to carols, I hear my Mom singing. She loved Christmas and as a Christian it meant a lot to her, the celebration of the birth of her Saviour. I hear her singing and I remember. I miss her so very much at this time of the year and I also miss all those who are no longer here; my Grandparents, a huge swathe of Great Aunties and Uncles who were always there on the fringes, well except Auntie Doris who could never be sidelined! As long as I live all these wonderful people will be remembered and not just at Christmas.
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| Me and Mom, Christmas c.2003 |
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