Hang up your Stocking

Today

Christmas is almost here again and I'm looking forward to seeing my niece from Stowmarket who is joining us for the celebrations.

It's lovely to feel that I have the space to welcome her and I wonder whether she remembers early Christmases spent with us.

In My Day

When we lived at Rowan Avenue, back in 1975, we didn't care so much about having space. For several years we shared Christmas with my brother Keir and his family of four children without even a blush for the lack of room. The children were "top and tailed" in the bunk beds and Lizzie had the tiny room. Keir and Jenny slept in the sitting room on a double airbed  which had to be heaved upstairs each morning so that we could use the dining table.

On Christmas Eve the children would hang stockings on the banisters (there being not even a pretence of a chimney at Rowan Avenue) and we'd tuck them in bed. They'd settle down pretty quickly and Jenny and I would check food preparations, touch up the tree and dance to Christmas music while the men would put the world to rights over a few pints.

Actually, not all the children settled. Little Chris, at that time aged about five, would come out of his room again and again. "Can I have a glass of water, Auntie Julia?" "My tummy hurts, Auntie Julia" "When's Father Christmas coming, Auntie Julie?" - "Not until after you're asleep!!" I fervently hoped that would occur sometime before four a.m. as I struggled to keep awake until each child was properly asleep before I did stocking duty.

I vividly remember the first time they came. Lizzie was three and had never had a stocking before and was very excited. In the morning I groaned into wakefulness to hear all the children chattering and laughing together. I went onto the landing. There were all the stockings, untouched. "Happy Christmas, darlings!" I said brightly going into their room. "Merry Christmas, Auntie Julia!" they replied "May we open our stocking now, please?" "Of course you may!" I was touched by their patience, manners and discipline and ever since we have waited until we can all open our stockings together.

We had huge fun; everything was appreciated, despite our having no money and being crammed into the house, sardine-style.

While I don't think that this Christmas will be a replica of 1975, I hope that we will all share the same fun, laughter and feeling of privilege that we are able to celebrate together. Merry Christmas, Claire!