To my mind, it was absolutely essential to be in the
familiar surroundings of home on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. That was
so that on Christmas Eve I could go to bed with the expectation of finding on
Christmas morning something unfamiliar in a place where usually there was
nothing. It didn’t matter whether it was at the end of my bed or on the sofa in
the living room. It was there just once a year: a sack containing things
wrapped in coloured paper.
It wasn’t the value of the gifts that mattered. It wasn’t a
materialistic thing. It was just that neither of my parents was inclined, for
different reasons, to buy me anything during the course of the year. Christmas
was the one time of the year when I was given
something. And my favourite gifts were always the chocolate selection box
and the comic book annual, usually Rupert Bear.
I suspect that was largely true of most kids where I grew
up. Times change.
2 comments:
I was always in love with the tree and fairy lights and would adore sitting in the dark for hours. One of my favourite pastimes leading up to the day was to sneakily scoff the chocolate decorations and carefully wrap the foil around tissue so that they looked untouched. You can only really do that at home...
You really are a minx aren't you, Melanie Ashton?
I loved the tree and fairy lights and darkness too, but my reveries took me to a fantasy world of plastic snowmen, Santas, cottages, fir trees and reindeer, all lovingly arranged on a bed of cotton wool.
We didn't have chocolate decorations at home - too expensive - but I remember the school having treasure hunts for chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil. I earned my treats, don't you know.
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