Christmases took on a whole new flavour in the early-1970s when there were young children once again in the picture. All of a sudden we were involving ourselves in the manic celebration which Christmas had become, checking out the latest must-have toys, and putting larger items on lay-by, hoping they would be paid off by Christmas day. Visiting Santa Claus in the local department store became a tradition. No ‘Working with Children’ card in those days – just a vaguely jolly bloke in a red suit who had to suffer hours of being nice to unpredictable children. It was not unusual for our children to see 4 or 5 different Santas in one year; how did they reconcile this anomaly in their minds?
It became difficult when Marilyn and I decided that we would move to Tasmania when Jamie was turning 6. His grandparents were devastated that he was being taken to what they saw as the other side of the world so we made a solemn promise that we would make sure he would always be in Wollongong at Christmas.
We had, of course, underestimated how expensive it would be to keep that promise. Air fares alone ran into many hundreds of dollars and it was not unusual for us to book only one-way fares, leaving us with some cash in hand for spending money when we arrived. We depended on booking the return fares in January and putting the cost on the credit card trusting that they could be paid off in due course.
Christmas should be the happiest time of the year but the shine is taken off a bit when you are forced to count the cost.
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