I don’t know about you but while we’re celebrating here in the present, I see things that remind me of Christmases past. I bet you thought the same if you saw what I saw on the television this week.
I was watching the breakfast news when I saw the young girl in the studio who’d been carol singing outside that elderly man’s house. I don’t know whether you saw it, it’s been on a few times this week as the story unfolded. They were singing Silent Night, which was beautiful and brought the man to tears. She was explaining how she felt so strongly about people who were on their own at Christmas and came across a truly caring young woman. It was so heartening that a lot of younger people are so thoughtful, but they tend not to get a mention, only the bad ones.
Christmases Past
I thought it was really lovely and it so took me back to when I was in my thirties and belonged to a group of ‘young wives’, run by our local vicar’s wife. It wasn’t a religious group, far from it. We were just a group of like minded people who got together once a month. We had speakers telling us about all sorts of things, how to use make up, talks on antique costumes and too many subjects to mention.
We also arranged to go to places where you normally wouldn’t get access to. I arranged and booked a visit to the South Yorkshire police headquarters in Sheffield, which as you can imagine was fascinating! Another one was to the Bassetts Liquorice Allsorts factory, also in Sheffield. That was sooooo interesting, seeing all those sweets being made in front of our eyes. And yes, we did get a bag of goodies to take home, and it was a big bag too! One of the good things about it was that we made good friends and had lots of nattering, as you can imagine, and lots of laughs too!
We used to go a-carolling
Anyway, to get back to my story. When I saw the carollers singing their heads off, my first thought was that it was what we used to do, every Christmas.
We would make up parcels full of presents, lots of things that you buy at Christmas but not any other time. Then we met and went carol singing to old people, mostly those who lived alone. We had lanterns which gave a lovely glow and off we went. We’d knock on the door and when they opened it sing lots of carols to them.
Sometimes it didn’t work because some were suspicious, especially when they saw a group of all ages standing outside their door singing. They probably thought we were from the local loony bin! The look on the old people’s faces made it worth turning out on the bitterly cold night, just to see how touched and often tearful they were.
Worth its weight in gold
When they got their box full of goodies they were so touched and just making a few people happy was worth more than gold to us. Then the good bit came when we had all finished our tour, we went back to where we held our meetings (an ex gas showroom, nothing fancy). There we would have hot pea and pies and more laughter. Looking at the group on the news was exactly what we looked like and it was lovely to have a trip down memory lane.
Christmases Past at Home
Talking of Christmas, it also reminded me of my mum and dad. We would always go to their house, which wasn’t far from ours, on Christmas Eve. It was a lovely time, especially when Jane was young and so excited about Father Christmas coming. My mum’s kitchen was always very warm with her up to the elbows in baking everything known to man. We would sit round the table while she threw flour and cake mixture everywhere. By the time she’d finished with the electric hand whisk it usually managed to find its way onto the tiles and tea and coffee jars!
My mum was well known for her untidy way of doing things. If she was baking it looked like a bomb had dropped, a nuclear flour, icing sugar and cake mixture bomb! Not forgetting the jam jar, which was always covered in her floury fingerprints. The house smelled delightful, with hot mince pies straight from the oven, and what a time to eat one when they were hot and new and so yummy. She made a delicious sweet pastry and they’d just melt in your mouth.
Feeding the five thousand!
She made lemon meringue pies, apple pies, walnut and coffee cakes, jam and sponge cakes. Not forgetting her chocolate cake, my that was so light and yummy. She was a wonderful baker even though she thought she wasn’t. Then there were jam tarts, mincemeat or jam turnovers, so many other things I’ve lost count. By the time she’d finished, I wondered if she feeding the five thousand, but undeterred she went on and on.
Much to my husband’s delight, as he loved her home baking. When he was young he would sit at the kitchen table and she’d just keep passing him plate after plate of all these delightful things.
The feeling of home
Eventually we turned out into the cold night and go home to wait for Christmas Day and the delights it brought. I suppose the thing that has always stayed with me most was the feeling of home. Warm and cosy, my mum always busy.
My dad doing what he did best, sitting in front of a roaring fire doing his crosswords (that must be where I got my love of crosswords from, especially cryptic). Meanwhile my mum was shouting to tell him to put more coal on an already roaring fire. The feeling of love and family was so lovely in those times. What a shame it all had to end. It what life and the passage of time does to us, but nobody can take my memories away from me, that’s for sure.
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