tezza1551
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A question about Christmas in books on this website recently made me start thinking about past Christmases.
Like all kids, I easily succumbed to the magic of Christmas – the food that we saw only once or twice a year, the parcels that arrived in the mail and then disappeared, helping Mum to write Christmas cards, finding and then decorating the tree, going to “Christmas Trees” at the two nearby halls and the one held in Cranbrook for the school. Going to town with Dad to choose a gift for Mum. Then the visits to the neighbours – few of them had kids around my age, so I usually took a book and sat quietly in the corner, ostensibly reading. In reality, I was soaking up the interesting information being shared by the ladies… not that I understood much of it at first.. but as I got older, there was all sorts of interesting stuff to tell my friends at school next day. Then it was our turn to host an evening, and I had to help Mum with the nibbles – cocktail onions or gherkin and cheese on toothpicks, prunes stuffed with cream cheese and home made cheese straws. At suppertime, one of Mum’s sponges, filled with home made jam and mock cream, or a Swiss roll, or perhaps her spice sponge with coffee icing; Christmas cake and fruit mince pies. The men drank beer, the ladies shandies or cool drink. These were the days when a man went to the pub and his wife and kids remained in the car, while a drink was brought out to them. The exception to this was the beer garden, usually an enclosed area with a few tables and chairs and maybe a swing or seesaw for the kids.
Finally, Christmas Day came. In earlier days, it was not unusual to have three sittings for Christmas Dinner, but in my childhood, if it was our turn to host Christmas, one huge table was set for the adults and another for the children. Up until I went away to school, Christmas celebrations rotated between us and four other families, plus Uncle Kev, and others from time to time.
The usual meal was cold, cooked on a wood stove the day before; a home grown turkey or several chooks, a ham, usually cooked in the copper in the wash house, and salads. Sweets always featured jelly, quite a rarity in the era of kerosene fridges, and Mum’s homemade icecream.
After I left school, Christmas changed. The first year I was nursing, I had only Christmas Day off duty, so Mum and Dad & I met in Perth and stayed with relations. A very different sort of Christmas – the caterers delivered a huge buffet early that morning, and I was delegated waitress and bar duty !
People came, nibbled, had a drink or two, then departed to repeat the process elsewhere, and were quickly replaced by others.
I married, had my own family, and returned to work. I was working mainly night duty, and Christmas changed. In the lead up weeks to Christmas one year, I hand sewed an entire wardrobe for the large doll that was hidden in my locker – the main Christmas gift for my daughter.
There was one year when I came home early, courtesy of a friend who came in at 6 am so I could be home when the kids woke. I sneaked into the house, got into my nighty so I could slip into bed for a few minutes sleep, headed quietly for the bathroom, and as I tiptoed back towards the bedroom, entered the kitchen to be confronted by three excited kids demanding to open their presents NOW ! So much for a sleep.
There were the Christmas Eves that I worked, planning to do all sorts of things – one year, we had approval from the Director of Nursing to prepare our own salads etc in the hospital kitchen. We got as far as putting our groceries in the kitchen, then the phone rang, and we spent the next seven hours dealing with victims of a car accident. Other Christmas Eves were spent caring for dying patients, or a new arrival. There was always something very special about a baby born in the early hours of Christmas Day.
Then there was the Christmas of the trampoline. We had bought a second hand trampoline from a friend, and had stored it in the shearing shed, telling the kids we had seen a huge snake there to keep them away. On Christmas Eve, we took the trailer over, and I climbed the steps to enter the shed to drag the trampoline out. Unfortunately, the shed wasn’t lit, and I had no way of seeing the rotten boards in the loading platform, and suddenly found myself with one leg through the boards and stuck tight.
Eventually, I extricated myself, and we got the trampoline loaded on the trailer and back to the house, but by this time my knee was swelling rapidly and I had promised to take Mum to Midnight Mass in Tambellup. I spent Christmas Day on the couch, being waited on by everyone, as by that time, I could barely walk ! The trampoline wasn’t all that good an idea either, as the mat was somewhat perished, as we discovered on about the third bounce when the mat split. Result – three very upset kids on Christmas Day. It still gets mentioned every so often when we discuss Christmas.
Another Christmas spent on the couch was a result of my cousin & I playing around with the air rifle.. and me being shot in the leg. I was too scared to tell anyone the pellet was still in my leg, and woke on Christmas morning with a very sore & swollen leg, red streaks running from the site, and spent the morning at Mt Barker Hospital, being told by Dr Bourke what a silly child I was !
One year, someone thought it might be fun to open the presents when we got home from midnight mass. Next morning was one of the saddest Christmases we ever had – nothing to open – no lovely Christmas morning surprises.
Another Christmas, we invited newly arrived New Zealand friends to have Christmas with us. All was going well until about 1145am – we were putting the finishing touches to the salad when the phone rang, and a neighbour announced that the nearby reserve was on fire and could we please organise a crew. My husband, eldest son and our Kiwi mate left, and finally returned about 3pm with blackened faces, and a smoke fuelled thirst. Christmas lunch was rather late that year. Picnickers at the reserve had decided a camp fire was a good idea, and had left abruptly when the fire got out of control, leaving Tupperware, picnic rugs etc as evidence.
Christmas has changed – the kids are grown with families of their own, and it is some years since we were all in the same place on Christmas Day.
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Reply #74. Sep 02 11, 8:30 PM
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