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CHESTNUTS roasting by an open fire. Frosty the Snowman. (Hope they’re not his, fnar fnar)
(Sorry!) Rockin’ around the Christmas
tree. The Corn Flake ad on television. The Penneys Christmas tune.
Those are some of my favourite songs at Christmas. I also love the family block of Viennetta
ice-cream. But it has to be the original
one. None of your fancy minty or coffee
flavoured versions, thanking you. Willie
Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Again it must
be the original. Goodnight Mr. Tom.
I could go on and on with this favourites theme but I have
another one in mind. The science whizz
that is Naomi over at Dr. How's Science Wows is currently hosting Christmas Memories (A seasonal linky) and I am delighted to add my own memories to the mix.
I remember feeling sick with excitement during the weeks
before Christmas. I could never
understand how my mother was able to stand
it! How was she so calm, almost serene. But of course she wasn’t; she was as frantic as I was just in a
different way.
I remember taking a large, dirty branch from outside,
sticking it into a flower pot filled with stones to make a Christmas tree for
my bedroom.
I remember an old man from the yard in the hardware shop
telling me and my sisters, on Christmas Eve, that Santa had crashed and his
sleigh had been found in bits around the corner. Christmas had been cancelled. The next few moments were a blur. I think shock and fright had set in.
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I remember the house being filled with people on Christmas day. From about 11am onwards, after mass, people
would arrive. Usually one by one to have
a Christmas drink with my parents. This was
a cup of tea as we weren’t a drinking family.
Then other relatives would arrive in the afternoon and stay for
hours. Giving us extra toys to play
with.
I remember wishing fervently for snow.
I remember going to bed at 6pm on Christmas Eve – sick with
the aforementioned excitement – and not being able to sleep for ages.
I remember waking up at an ungodly hour. I’d bet this year’s turkey my mother had been
in bed for about 63 minutes but she still got up with us to see if santy had
been. I remember how she cleverly tricked
coaxed us all back into our beds by getting us to agree we were delighted with
our hauls and yes, we were a bit tired. The
comedown, see. My mammy rocks!
I remember my younger sisters having a game of hide and seek
and finding the “santy’s” during it.
I remember hobbling about on crutches one year, unable to
get comfortable and living in sweaty fear of someone bumping off me. I had a broken knee, the result of an
accident that took place on December 6th, my mother’s birthday and
two days before mine.
I remember the pub on Christmas Eve. It was like a massive class reunion with
everyone home for the holidays.
I remember being 8 months pregnant 9 Christmases ago and
swearing never again. For the next three
Christmases I was either pregnant and/or breastfeeding.
Now that I’ve got four children of my own I hope they will
have their own fond memories of the festive season. I asked the boy who will be 7 on New Year’s
Day what does he like best about Christmas.
He wasn’t allowed say toys!
I wanted to see if he had any memories of Christmas yet. His answer was, “the dinner, the decorations
and the Christmas tree.” He stuck in a
sneaky “treats!” though!
See? Memories can
start at any age.
Lovely memories, thanks for joining in! Ouch to the broken knee (Shudder)!
ReplyDeleteA hard lesson well learned, Naomi ;)
DeleteMy youngest is definitely going to do something like your stick Christmas tree some day, I can just see her hauling in a bucket of muck! Great memories!
ReplyDeleteThat's literally all it was - a stick! i'd no decorations for it!
DeleteLovely! I think they're all definitely building their own memories as we speak.
ReplyDeleteAnd I hope it won't all be about the toys.
DeleteI must ask mine what their Christmas memories are! They were fascinated to hear mine yesterday about our first Christmas in our house together, I didn't think to ask them their memories or best bits but will remedy that at dinner this evening :)
ReplyDelete