The tree is even more droopy, and although the needles have not all fallen off YET, they are tinged with yellow and the branches are quite crispy. There is a definite pine smell which makes me feel very nostalgic and reminds me of Christmas as a little girl.
I was brought up in a house where Christmas was a very special time. The living room was decorated with twisted crepe garlands and there was always a real tree covered in pretty coloured lights, of pink, orange, green, blue and yellow, as they all were in the 70s.,
A golden haired fairy with pale pink feathers sat atop the tree, and further down, hung rosy cheeked plastic cherubs with golden harps, and white furry mice with red ears. My favourite decorations were pink glass baubles dusted with glitter and snow crystals, although I was never allowed to touch them because they were so fragile. Knowing what I now know (having been instructed on the perils of old Christmas decorations by Mr C), I think that this may have been a blessing, although at the time I considered it grossly unfair. Mr C warns that the fake snow on old decorations was actually highly toxic asbestos, in the days before it was identified as a hazard. Apparently it was also widely used in the film industry, and the snow in the poppy field scene in The Wizard of Oz was made from asbestos. Never mind bewaring of eating yellow snow; fake snow is far more danger.ous
I have a number of decorations dating back to my childhood, which hang each year
on the tree; a grinning Santa with a yellow droopy beard which needs gluing back on, plastic Santas with green plastic hooks rammed into their hats to replace ribbons long gone, a pink 1970s angel whose dress always reminded me of a peppermint cream. I was so compelled to bite that dress!.
I come from a fairly big family, I have two big sisters and a big brother, and hundreds of nieces and nephews, so we always had a houseful around the 25th. My eldest sister had kids of a similar age to me, and we spent much of the Christmas period with them. We played many board games - Mastermind, Operation, Twister, Perfection, Buckaroo, Frustration, Cluedo and Connect 4 were amongst the favourites. I was very jealous when somebody was given Downfall one Christmas, as I really had my eye on that, but when they let me play it, it was harder than it looked - I think it had a front and a back to consider when lining up the cogs, and I didn't have chance to work out how to use it effectively before the game, so I was beaten, which made me not want it as much. One year we all got skateboards, and other year, my nieces had pogo sticks and I had stilts. I loved those stilts and once I had mastered them, I could walk on them for hours. I still have them in my shed (they were made for me by my sister's father in law), but sadly my arms have grown too long now. I should like to try stilt walking again, on some appropriately sized stilts, as I think I would still be excellent at it, although I also thought (until I tried) that I would still be able to do a headstand, a crab, and cycling in the air.
Other memorable and stand out presents included the giant Bontempti organ on a stand. It came with its own music book which was full of songs that I had never before encountered. I read the words of Frosty the snowman, which was completely new to me, and could not figure out the tune. Or how the words fitted the music. Or what a corncob pipe was.
The Christmas Day arrival of an orange record player transformed my bedroom into somewhere I wanted to spend time. The Roald Dahl boxset (which was books when I was a child) was another winner, as was The Grease double album. LPs or albums were much more of a novelty when I was a child. Now my kids have access to whatever music they fancy at any time. In my own childhood and early teens, in an average year I might get two or three new LPs, and would play them until they were almost worn out. The rest of my record collection consisted of records passed on by my parents or cast aside by my brother and sister, and included bangers such as 'Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep', 'The Northern Lights', Herb Alpert and Tijuana Brass and The Honky Tonk Piano Party. The fact that I still remember every word, every beat reinforces my idea that I probably listened to every record I came across over and over, until they were etched on my brain forever.
One of the best things that happened when I was very young was that my brother Simon, whilst out on his morning paper round, spotted a silver Christmas tree outside someone's house, presumably left for the binmen. He brought it home for me and put it up in my bedroom, and although it was very spindly and a little threadbare, it was still beautiful, and thrilled me as I lay in my bed, with the door slightly ajar, the silver tinsel rippling in the draught, reflecting the yellow beam from the landing light. How lucky was I to have such a thoughtful big brother.
Simon was 11 years older than me, so was either at university or living away from home in most of my childhood Christmas memories, but he always came back for Christmas, and it was always even more special as a result.
When he was 20, he spent a fortune buying a Merlin electronic game, which was the very latest thing, and notoriously hard to get hold of. I have a feeling he bought it in Hamley's in London, or he might have just told me that. I think it was a precursor to the Gameboy, and had nine or so different games which could be played - follow me, noughts and crosses, and so on.
He was a big spender, always buying the latest and the biggest and the best. He brought home unusual fare, and over a number of years, we ate goose, duck and capon for our Christmas dinner at his insistence, before my Mum decided that we should revert to the traditional turkey. A coconut, pineapple and pomegranate - these were all unusual items which only appeared at Christmas, no doubt also the result of my brother having a hand in the food shopping too. Out of the blue, just before Christmas in 1980 or thereabouts, he unplugged and removed the electric fire , and built and lit a fire in the fireplace, which was the first time I realised that we even had a grate and chimney. He made every Christmas bigger and brighter and more joyful than it already was.
There were no big supermarkets (it sounds like I am talking about the Victorian Era, rather than the 1970s), so for our Christmas food shop, we would visit the local shopping parade (Kingsley Front) and buy vegetables from Quick Turnover, with its fake grass and clumps of mistletoe and holly hanging from the ceiling. Meat was purchased from the local butchers and most other things from Civils, a grocery shop about the size of a large modern day Spar. Then onto the Off Licence to pick up the Christmas Booze. Alcohol was kept in the sideboard at home, and Christmas and New Year's Eve were the only occasions on which I recall it being consumed. But my brother, apparently on my mum's behalf, would buy bottles of sherry, vodka, whisky, brandy, rum and Martini, and several bottles of mixers. Although we knew all of our neighbours and had lived alongside most of them for many years, they were always known as Mr Martin or Mrs Hudson, never by their first names. And we never went into their houses, unless they had children, and even then very rarely. At Christmas however, neighbours would call (maybe to deliver Christmas cards?), and have a glass of sherry or something stronger, so there needed to be a bottle to satisfy every taste. What a nice tradition this was, the bottles all arranged on a tin tray with glasses stacked up beside them.
Back to Kingsley Front, and a trip to the chemist at the top of Byron Street, to pick up the ginger tincture for ginger wine, which my mum always made and stored in a tall crystal decanter on a side table with special glasses and a bowl of nuts. The wine was dark, almost black, syrupy sweet with a burn of ginger and us kids all felt very grown up when we were allowed a small one. The nuts, a mixture of walnuts, hazelnuts and brazils (and pecans came later I think) were virtually impossible to crack open. We always wanted to use the nutcrackers, but our hands were never strong enough, which was just as well as we didn't really like the taste anyway.
My mum was a marvellous cook and would make quiche, smoked mackerel pate, and sausage rolls, filling the table for a family buffet with enough to feed an army. There would be jars of pickled onions, Branston, piccalilli and salad cream. She had
a special pickled onion grabber (which reminded me of a pogo stick for some reason) which would break most times it was used, and had to be reassembled over and over, until it eventually disappeared.
There was always a big bowl of satsumas, individually wrapped in squares of greaseproof paper. and sticky dates in lozenge shaped boxes. Sweets were kept on top of the sideboard, not just metal tins of Roses and Quality Street, but also Newberry fruit jellies with liquid centres and flat circular boxes filled with hard chewy sugar coated orange and lemon flavoured slices, rock hard sugar mice, and Turkish Delight which came in pale wooden boxes,. However, this was kept on a higher shelf, out of reach of me and my amigos, to prevent us from licking the icing sugar off before returning the pieces to the box..
We would put on shows, usually out of the way of the grownups, in the hallway, sitting on the stairs, angling the landing light as a spotlight. And there were many sleepovers, before the word was even invented. Christmas shopping was a big deal, and I can clearly remember the excitement of standing in Boots The Chemist, sniffing bars of soap to decide which ones to buy as gifts. My memories of Christmas as a child are very happy and I know that not everyone was as fortunate. It appears that perhaps this Christmas will be more similar to those I experienced growing up - simpler, smaller and less commercial. I hope at least that it is a peaceful one for me and my family, and for everyone.
In preparation for a quiet Christmas, I have bought the Sainsbury's food magazine, which always has lovely recipes and the TV Times magazine, which I will use to plan my Christmas viewing. There are plenty of good films, and I intend to spend the big day watching TV, eating lovely food and playing games.
I have bought a couple of new games this year. One is similar to table ice hockey, and looks a little fragile to last more than a few rounds in this house. The other is Taskmaster. Have I written before about my Task Master addiction - both the man (Greg Davies, I love his naughtiness) and the programme itself.
I am really enjoying the current series, especially Daisy May Cooper who reminds me so much of a little girl I taught many years ago, who was just so overjoyed and puzzled by everything in equal measure. If I had been four when we met, I would have immediately snapped her up as a best friend, and I feel the same way about DMC. I love how she approaches every problem, and I admire her spirit and her resilience. And I like sweary people, as long as it is not coupled with aggression. I don't just like DMC, I actually really love all of the contestants, and every week I get butterflies when the theme music begins. But then Mr C starts...
'We've seen this one. We watched this last week. Looks it's the one with Jonny Vegas, turn it over'. Every week I remind him that it's the same contestants in each episode of this series. I can't work out whether he is teasing, or if his memory has finally gone, or if he just doesn't listen to anything I say ever.
But the Task Master game, I am hoping that everyone will join in, without any dramas, and that we can have a lovely Christmas. In fact, this is what I have asked for from Mr C and my kids. I just want to have a lovely Christmas, with no fighting, arguing or drama. I will let you know how it goes, but expectations, as always are floor level.
Christmas dinner will be a much smaller affair, with four of us around the table. I am planning to keep it simple and will not be following any of the Jamie Oliver recipes I attempted last year, when I made a big fancy stuffing with sausage meat, chestnuts and fresh herbs which was only liked by one guest (and she was probably being polite), but it wasn't nice at all. I made a pared down, but still very faffy version of his gravy, but it wasn't really any better than the standard Sunday gravy which is just the juices from the meat, lots of oxo, a splash of wine, thickened with batter saved from the Yorkshire pudding. I have written before about my dad's obsession with my mum's gravy (lovely bit of gip Beryl), and Mr C now says the same about mine. Gravy is my favourite part of the meal, although roast potatoes come a close second. I have tried parboiling them the day before (another of Jamie's ideas) but I find it makes them taste like canteen food. (The puddings were always so much tastier than the savoury) I have tried cutting the roasties a million different ways and prefer the flat type where potatoes are halved lengthways. I do squash them slightly with a masher (as Jamie suggests) about 20 mins before they are due to come out of the oven, and I prefer them to be quite soft inside with a light crispy crunch.
We have a range style cooker with two ovens - one a fan, the other a standard electric oven. I have noticed in recent months that everything seems to be taking much longer to cook. Engineers have been summoned and have prodded and poked and proclaimed the ovens fit for duty, but still they are not reaching high temperatures and it takes an age to cook anything. So Mr C has made yet another appointment for an engineer to call, but they were only available on Christmas Eve. My spidey senses are tingling as an inevitable drama begins to unfold. Mr C has asked that they bring plenty of spare parts with them so that there is no possibility of us being left without an oven on the big day. Oh dear!!! The other issue is that I missed the deadline for ordering a turkey crown, and so will have to take my chances in Morrisons on Christmas Eve. So much pressure! However, it is really not the end of the world if we don't manage to get one, as there will only be three of us eating it,(L continuing to insist that she is an edgy veggie) as there is a two metre long pig in a blanket in the freezer, which is what we would all prefer to eat anyway. Even the edgy veggie will no doubt have a go on it! And turkeys are tricky to cook when using an underperforming oven.
And finally, the Alexa Update.
A new game has emerged this week. Alexa plays songs on request via our Echo Dots. I have already mentioned that my daughter T has very kindly registered the devices using her phone so we can access them using her 4G, whether the home wifi is working or not (not is the norm in our house). And that she has a very annoying habit of changing the music we are playing to 'WillyBumBum', 'Mr Hankie the Christmas Poo' or similar, for her own amusement.
This week she went to the gym and I stayed at home, singing along merrily to Adam Ant, as I collected the fallen decorations from the floor around the Christmas tree. . Suddenly, the track changed, and I was struck by the realisation that if she could do that remotely, I could probably change what she was listening to. Oh I had a lovely time, playing her, (as she ran on the treadmill, she later shouted at me!) the National Anthem and the theme from Star Wars. Then I treated her to a bit of Dolly, some Kenny and the inevitable Boney M (not a day goes by in this house without). My son H chose a few inappropriate songs for her, one in particular about some rude rude cowboys sticks in my mind! These were followed by The Dance of The Sugar Plum Fairy, The Battle Hymn of the Republic and a few traditional Christmas carols. Then out of the blue, she started to fight back, beginning with a lovely song by Lily Allen, charmingly entitled 'F*** You'. And every time we tried to put on a different song; some Britney, Gloria, Bonnie or Cher, she switched it back to the two Justins - Timberlake and Bieber. I could have coped had it been Hawkins (for a while at least), and eventually I was forced to capitulate. She was VERY cross and has now banned us from using Spotify, but we can still use Amazon, so I think we will be fine.
As the big day draws nearer, I am hoping for a peaceful happy Christmas for us all. It won't be the Christmas I was hoping for, but it could be a lot worse. I am counting my blessings and will be grateful for what I get (unless it's food poisoning and pitched battles around a dead Christmas tree)
I wish you all a peaceful Christmas, and a better new year.
Thanks for following my blog. I really appreciate the time you spend reading I promise they won't always be this long), and your support. Much love, Jo x
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