Being Home

Christmas was just that. Presents, wine, sitting by the fire watching telly and cooking and eating a roast turkey dinner.

The best bit of the day was seeing 4 year old Grandson opening his presents.

Christmas holds none of the magic for me now that it had when I was a child. We would go to my Grandma's house for the Turkey dinner, usually about 12 of us there for that, then in the afternoon to early evening my Uncles and Aunts would arrive, plus their children. My Dad being the youngest of five, meant I had cousins who were teenagers when I was born, so in the later years before Fairhaven was sold in 1966, those cousins would have their children too. I suppose at the end, there would be between 30 and 40 of us there.

I loved that house, I was sent there every weekend, to stay with Grandma and my Aunt, her husband and their almost adult son. It had Minton tiling in the Hall, oak panelling, stained glass windows, a Box Room, where all sorts of fascinating things were kept, including the stored apples from the garden and the Rag-Bag. I went back in 2004 and knocked on the door. I had no idea what reception I would get. The lady who lives there invited me in to have a look around, she has lived there since 1968. Unfortunately, the person that had the house for the 2 years before took the oak panelling out. The hall was now carpeted and I didn't like to ask if the tiles were still there. She gave me a photo of the back of the house, which I treasure. In my dreams, I will one day own this house and the summers will be full of sunshine and the scent of roses.

The games and the fun from those Christmases 50+ years ago were wonderful, so much laughter, although my Mother says she never enjoyed it, as she hated her Mother-in-Law and considered her to be interfering. No doubt something I have inherited.