Christmas was a bit different this year. As previously mentioned, The Daughter was unable to get away from Cornwall this year, and so spent her Christmas with The Boyfriend's family. First thing on Christmas Day, she had to attend chapel, as The Boyfriend's dad is the minister, and they then returned to turkey and copious amounts of wine. We had a slightly tipsy phone call at lunch, during which the phone got passed round the table and we wished her a good day. The Sexist Uncle was also absent, victim of a bad back and knockout painkillers. My Mother had stocked his freezer, cleaned his house and written down the time of his Downton Abbey Christmas special, so he was fine.
Boxing Day saw the addition of Son Number One's new girlfriend - a huge improvement on her predecessor, having a wonderful sense of humour and generosity of spirit. Being 5' 2" tall, she endures jokes at her expense from my 6' son, mainly about getting child fares on the train and whether she needs a high-chair in restaurants.
As the wine flowed, so did the family stories. The time when my Father saw a panther whilst inspecting a seed-trial field in Woolpit a couple of years ago. Apparently, it was prowling round a large rabbit warren, and the nearby farmers all knew about it, reacting with a cool, 'Oh, you've seen it, have you?' when quizzed.
My Mother earned a new respect from her grandsons when she confessed that, aged 10, she'd blasted a hole through the wash-house door whist wielding the shot-gun her brother had been keeping secret. Obviously, it didn't stay secret for long.
The Husband had a share of stories from his years in the Territorial Army, one of which involved the mysterious disappearance of an officer's snappy little dog during an artillery exercise. And then there was the 'cease fire' order that didn't go quite as planned. It involved a train and a live firing exercise, but that's as much as I'll say...
I'm wondering what will be confessed in years to come - when it's too late to get into trouble with mum.
Boxing Day saw the addition of Son Number One's new girlfriend - a huge improvement on her predecessor, having a wonderful sense of humour and generosity of spirit. Being 5' 2" tall, she endures jokes at her expense from my 6' son, mainly about getting child fares on the train and whether she needs a high-chair in restaurants.
As the wine flowed, so did the family stories. The time when my Father saw a panther whilst inspecting a seed-trial field in Woolpit a couple of years ago. Apparently, it was prowling round a large rabbit warren, and the nearby farmers all knew about it, reacting with a cool, 'Oh, you've seen it, have you?' when quizzed.
My Mother earned a new respect from her grandsons when she confessed that, aged 10, she'd blasted a hole through the wash-house door whist wielding the shot-gun her brother had been keeping secret. Obviously, it didn't stay secret for long.
The Husband had a share of stories from his years in the Territorial Army, one of which involved the mysterious disappearance of an officer's snappy little dog during an artillery exercise. And then there was the 'cease fire' order that didn't go quite as planned. It involved a train and a live firing exercise, but that's as much as I'll say...
I'm wondering what will be confessed in years to come - when it's too late to get into trouble with mum.
My wife and I long imagined that our Christmas tradition would be constant. We’d had Christmas dinner at our home for 25 years; us and our children. The kids made it home for Christmas while they were away at college but things changed when they got married. The last two years they spent Christmas at their in-laws and the two of us, left to our own devices had dinner in San Francisco. The church service at Grace Cathedral was magnificent and the early dinner at one of the grand hotels very elegant. But it just wasn’t Christmas. There was that along with the fact that our age diminished appetites barely put a dent in the buffet that cost well over 100 dollars each. The experience loses a little something when you overstuff yourself to make the economics more palatable.
ReplyDeleteThat second year was enough and we decided that whether or not the kids joined us we would sit down to a proper home cooked Christmas dinner in our dining room. Happily our son and his wife and daughter were home with us on Christmas. Those two years on our own were strange and to some extent depressing but it made us realize life’s changes.
Hope you had a very Happy Christmas and wish you a Happy New Year.
Many thanks. I look back fondly on Christmases in which my grandmothers ruled the festivities, little realising how much work it all was for them. I was fascinated by how one tiny little stove produced endless tables groaning with good food. I loved falling asleep in an armchair, lulled by family chatter.
DeleteNowadays, I welcome each new addition to our family, and acknowledge that my children's needs will take them elsewhere, but can't help the feeling that each subtraction takes a little of Christmas with them.
I wish you and yours a very Happy New Year - I hope it brings you all you wish for.