The word ‘December’ is enough to send pulses racing in our house so it’s no surprise to learn that we currently have two children literally bouncing off the walls! The decorations have been plucked from the loft and the tree is just days away from being bought and plonked in our lounge. We have made the first obligatory trip to see Father Christmas which I noticed was met with some degree of suspicion by Martha. She’s been here before that one, make no mistake. All I could think was “just don’t grab the beard, please don’t!”
The Christmas lists are being checked and double checked by the children and us alike, with last minute amendments being duly noted over their shoulders. As a child, I remember writing things down in secret without telling mum and dad then feeling a pang of disappointment when said toy didn’t arrive on Christmas morning. As a consequence my radar is working overtime right now to make sure I don’t miss a trick! Funnily enough though, it’s the presents I didn’t ask for that I remember the most such as my trusty pogo stick and recorder… However, I don’t think the rest of my family recall them as fondly as I do thanks to a few murderous tunes the odd smashed ornament. There was also my plastic daisy brooch that had perfume inside and best of all, the cuckoo clock that appeared on my wall one Christmas morning!
As for the worst, well to be honest there haven’t been that many, or at least none I would admit to for fear of offending anyone! But if I really have to name one, it’s got to be THE jumper. I think it was made on one of those knitting machines you used to see in department stores for a spell, busily creating sweaters all on their own. I was in awe of these knitting robots, until I unwrapped my very own black, jade and cerise number complete with jaggedy stars. It was given to me by my lovely Grandma who is sadly no longer with us (sorry Grandma!). Unfortunately my brother and sister were standing right behind her when I, facing them all, opened it out trying my very hardest to feign a look of delight. I think, at least I hope, I pulled it off despite the terrible twosome laughing heartily – yet silently – behind her. If only Little Lucy Willow had been around back then. There would have been no such thing as a bad present to speak of!