Well, I know because I received this photograph from the lovely Melinda just last evening...just one look at those three shining faces would tell you something exciting is in the wind...even without the tell tale decorated tree behind them...It did bring back memories...
I remember the exciting build up to Christmas when one was a small onself...it started early back then, helping mum mix, wrap and boil the several Christmas puddings our family expected, weeks before the big day, this event started off the big build up to the day itself. There was making shortbread with butter from a farm dairy, (tastes sooo much better!), storing it away in its tins out of sight and reach so it could have a chance to mature to buttery perfection just when needed. We were under pain of death regarding illicit sampling of the goods...at least we firmly believed we were, although my brothers, being older and more street wise than me, were often quite brave about these injunctions...the mystery of hidden parcels on top of wardrobes and at the back of shelves...the anxiety of working out just how much money one had saved in the piggy bank, what one could purchase for each necessary parcel...how best to divide the meagre amount to ensure each family member recieved just exactly was the perfect item to astound and delight when gathered around the Christmas tree on Christmas morning...(it never worked out however hard one saved)...
Then there came the Christmases after leaving home, working, marrying, having a family of ones own...juggling the now divided loyalties of where to be and when...traveling late at night to be with family at the crucial moments, going to midnight eucharist, singing carols, so many lovely shared memories, family occasions, meals...
But it is still lovely to sit back now and watch the enjoyment of others and hope against hope that the Christmas fairy will be in to clean the house sufficiently to appease the Ghosts of Christmas's Past, (mother, grandmothers and great aunts, they do so hover about at this time of year with whispy residues of past practices that seemed so set in stone when I was young). However, dear daughter resolutely refuses to allow me to reject everything outright...she drags me protesting faintly along the tinsel path each year...actually I think she has an ally in Christopher (who lives with us)...he has threatened to get the Christmas box down from it's high shelf in the shed and decorate the house before eveyone arrives on Christmas day...hopefully he won't remember...
I do still enjoy seeing the photographs and hearing the stories, and catching up with those we don't see so frequently thoughout the year anymore.
In adition, I really do wish I was close enough to the three little hopefuls in the photo above to pop in for an hour on Christmas morning and see their bright faces...but an hour would do me nicely...oh to be wealthy and own a Lear jet...I have indeed become a bah humbug!
That's it from me for now...
Di xx