Tuesday, December 14th

 

We’re really into the Christmas countdown now although it has nothing like the excitement of Christmases Past.  Nowadays, we don’t get exercised about buying presents; we’re more likely to spend any money we have spare on a lunch out together or a holiday.  We don’t plan a huge Christmas lunch with turkey, ham, 6 vegetables, trifle, pudding, crackers and funny hats.  No, our most regular Christmas dinner now is based around a kilo or two of the biggest prawns we can find.

 

Our Christmas tree is about 90cm tall. It has tiny flashing fibre-optic lights built into some of the branches and sits happily on a sideboard year after year, spreading Christmas cheer to all and sundry.  It’s been years since we’ve had a ‘real’ tree, shedding needles everywhere, and discarded like thousands of its mates on the 6^th of January.

 

We don’t get up any earlier on Christmas morning because there are no children in the house desperate to find out what ‘Santa’ has brought them.  We do tend to dress a little more tidily in honour of the significance of the day but it’s no big deal.

 

I don’t remember what Christmas was like when I was very young.  In Scotland, of course, it was winter so there would have been snow but what we now think of as a ‘traditional’ Christmas is based on two books: one English and one American, so it’s unlikely they had much of an influence in Scotland.  ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’, the poem by Clement Clarke Moore, lays out the procedure for Christmas in fine detail and A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens fills in the gaps. 

 

I do remember two books which I probably received as Christmas presents and brought with me to Australia: one was Rubalong Tales by Enid Blyton, and the other was an illustrated version of Oliver Twist, adapted for ‘Young Readers’.  The Enid Blyton has faded from my memory but the Dickens clearly made a strong impression on me.  I can remember clearly the way the characters were dressed, how angry I was at the behaviour of Mr Bumble and my mixed emotions when I read about the Artful Dodger.  Dickens' description of Fagin coloured my feelings about Jewish people for years. 

 

                                                                        …. To be continued