When I was a little girl I knew Christmas was on its way because of numerous events that happened in our house-hold.
For starters mum pouring herself a large Bailey’s, popping on a Christmas CD while excitedly putting up and decorating the tree was a definite giveaway. Red and gold, always red and gold.
My grandad coming to stay with us for a few nights signalled Santa wasn’t far away at all. I loved my Grandad staying. He let us drink sherry [ a tiny glass] and stay up late.
Dad would always plump for a massive turkey [ I swear it was bigger than my head] which Mum always cooked on Christmas Eve. They were an extremely sociable ‘Mum and dad’ who had friends & neighbours back after the pub for turkey sandwiches, more drink and frivolity.
Grandad smoked a pipe.
The combined smell that wafted around the house during that time was Christmas.
Turkey and tobacco.
It lingered on everything. It was comforting, familiar. It was Christmas. I wish I could have bottled it up.
When the bumper Christmas edition Radio Times eventually got delivered Mark [my brother ] and I would fight over, then flick through it excitedly ear-marking programmes we wanted to watch.
Mark was the blue marker, I was usually pink.
Along with ‘Jason and the Argonauts’ and ‘Spartacus’… ‘The Wizard of Oz’ was always highlighted in both blue and pink as one of the must watch films, something we agreed on for once! Continue reading