time for reflection

We’re having breakfast and Ma-in-law starts one of those ‘Christmas isn’t like it used to be’ discussions.  I’ve got to that age where I think she’s probably right.

I recall my first Christmas after leaving school.  I remember in particular the shock at how suddenly it arrived and how suddenly it went.  No school carol concert or Christmas holiday to build anticipation and excitement; in 1963 Christmas started around midday on 24th December and finished at midnight on the 26th.  

I had an outdoor job and around lunchtime the foreman announced that we should all stop work and head to the nearest pub.  It seemed to be full of men about my Dad’s age.  I was 16 and tall and if the landlord thought I was underage, he didn’t say anything.  Pints of beer and then Rum and Black all round for a Christmas toast before heading off home.  

And that was it.  Christmas had arrived.  But like any well behaved guest, didn’t overstay its welcome.  We had Boxing Day off and were back at work on the 27th, even though it was a Friday that year.  If my Mum was here she’d have reminded me, coming from a mining village in Scotland, that my granddad was back down the pit on Boxing Day (“…and we only had an orange in our stocking …”).

I have no wish to return to what sounds like something out of Dickens.  But I do think whoever said ‘fish and visitors stink after three days’ could have added Christmas to the list. 

Humbug anyone?