I have been doing some musing on times past.
In particular, what Christmas was like some sixty or so years ago.
Christmas in our house started months in advance. The first sign was when my mother had a baking frenzy. There was the cake to be baked, mince for the mince pies and of course the Christmas pudding [with sixpence buried in it]. They would be left in their bowls and tin in the pantry to settle and mature.
Then a turkey would mysteriously appear and would hang from the pantry ceiling where there was even a special hook for the purpose. I hasten to add that the turkey was devoid of life – we weren’t that cruel.
Coming closer to the day, my sister and I used to make up paper chains to string around the place. The cake would be taken out and iced, and the turkey would be plucked [I always seemed to get that job!].
Christmas Eve was all about shifting furniture and opening the big doors between the sitting and dining rooms. Decorations would go up and the Christmas tree would go up and be decorated, usually to the sound of carols from King’s College on the radio.
The overriding impression though was that it was a happy peaceful event. There was no commercial hype, no frantic pleas to buy some horrible bit of tat to make our day “perfect”. There was an element of shopping but no frantic traffic jams trying to get into overstuffed shopping centre car parks. Granted, some lights would appear on some Dublin streets [not to mention a display of moving lights on Mc Birney’s on the Quay], but it would have been unheard of for people to string lights around outside their houses. That would have been seen as vulgar and totally unnecessary!
Christmas was a quiet family affair.
How times have changed!
Have a good one, ye’all.
Indulge yourselves and give Nanny a heart attack.