I've just received my first Christmas card for this year. It actually arrived in November.
As a child I remember my parents necessarily posting cards and gifts to family abroad early in December, and then we'd personally deliver our local cards by hand during the week prior.
I remember too, in December, always receiving a box of clothing from cousin 'Patsy'. Patricia being a few years older than myself. In turn, upon the arrival of the box, my own outgrown clothing became passed down to my sister and hers were passed then to Joan, who lived just around the corner. Joan's mother did cleaning for local families and her husband brought fresh veg' to ours.
My Dad had gone to America one time on business. He'd sailed upon the 'Queen Mary'. Upon his return he gifted my sister and I frilled petticoats of paper-nylon and ribbon. That Christmas our mother made us dresses with wide skirts that showed off the frills beneath. My sisters dress was made from blue and white cotton, to tone with her underskirt. I choose semi-transparent white nylon for my dress so that the pink and white underskirt could be seen through. On Christmas day my father turned the tree lights out...as my clothing crackled and lit the room when I moved!
My gran and granddad ran a guest house. They always made Christmas puddings and my sister and I were called to add silver sixpences to the mix prior to the steaming of the pud' in muslin. One year when the pudding was brought to the table my dad poured alcohol over it and then struck a match, which resulted in the loss of his eyebrows. My granddad lost his teeth one year and a wrapped part-boiled Christmas pud' was taken apart in his effort to find them. They later turned up with the sprouts.
Granddad had a vegetable patch. In fact just about everyone grew vegetables back then. Granddad had an outside toilet. This was a brick built lean-to affair with a corrugated iron roof. The toilet itself was brick built and it had two seats, side by side. After use the doings received a covering of sawdust that was taken from the bucket provided. Each year the loo would be emptied and the waste dug into the soil. I've never since trusted rhubarb.
The front garden of granddads house had a path lined with 'London Pride'. This had been planted deliberately in respect for those who died in the bombing of London. My family came away from London...they lost many friends there during WW2. I still plant 'London Pride' in each home I've lived in since. I also maintain granddads respect for Sir Winston.
Another plant I have a fondness for is the Laburnham. As all parts of the tree are poisonous, when my sister and I were young my mum removed one of these trees from the front garden of a house we purchased. For some reason this seemed unfair to me at the time. The tree was lovely and had been removed for just 'being itself'. It was removed by my mother with the best of intentions, but still, it seemed unfair, for the tree would harm no-one unless they deliberately took steps to take from it.
I've planted a Laburnham in the garden of my homes since, whenever the space has been available to do so. My present house had one already established, but it died a few years ago and wasn't replaced until last spring. The new tree will flower properly this year as it is settled in now.
Granddads dog was called Spud. Mum's pet dog was called Jess. Then we had a small dog named Brumas who would allow himself to be dressed up and pushed around the garden in a small Triang dolls' pram. Brumas was followed by Bobby...a black dog which had four legs that splayed out when he ran. Finally, mum had a scrappy poodle...but by then my sister and I had left home.
I moved on to have several dogs myself...but, finally returning to my Christmas theme, one incident stands out within my mind that is still well remembered by my then-young son. The incident concerns Solo...a cairn terrier with attitude. Solo had intellect, and when a bag of 'Doggy Do-nuts' was placed near the top of the tree we knew he'd try to reach it. For days the treat attracted the dogs cunning. Twice my son had to reach up to move it to a new position. However...we went out shopping on Christmas Eve and while we were gone the dog took his chance and won the prize! Upon our return, with fake annoyance we cleared up the mess and deposited the empty packet of treats in the bin. But that wasn't the end of the matter.
During the night my son woke me to report that the place was on fire. I explained that the smell he'd reported was not that of burning...I didn't know what it was, but it was indeed pervasive. So I went into the kitchen to investigate the source. As I opened the door I was met by the strong odour of doggy fart! The emissions continued through Christmas Day and we ate with our coats on and the windows wide open. As for the dog...each time he farted he'd glance over his shoulder towards his rear end as if in surprise!
