Nearly there now, last market of the season yesterday (one of my new favorite ones in my local village, full of wonderful produce and gifts, all local, all handmade), Christmas cards written, presents waiting for himself to go out so I can wrap them and waiting for one to arrive (crossing everything wildly) tomorrow. I do struggle with Christmas as I get older, when I was little we used to have huge family parties, I have no idea how my Mummy did it, but she did and never wanted help, I just remember them as being loud and fun with lots of wonderful food.
Which reminds me, I must tell you a heart warming Christmas story about the Turkey we used to have for dinner when I was a child (and I apologise to those of you who do not celebrate at this time of year, I hope you don’t mind me talking about this).
My Daddy loved old cars and at one time he owned the most beautiful Burgundy coloured Bristol with full leather upholtery, walnut interior etc etc, just beautiful (he got the train to work so it only went out on high days and holidays). Then he decided that he really didn’t need to keep this wonderful car and sold it, not sure how, long before the days of Autotrader, but it was sold to a bloke from South Wales who arranged to come up and collect it just before Christmas. Daddy lovingly cleaned and polished the car inside and out until she gleamed and then very very very carefully reversed it right into the garage, I mean litterally! Thankfully the damage was minor but he tried to ring the bloke comming up from Wales (we lived in Surrey) to say don’t come I have damaged the car, but too late, he had left and again this was long before the days of mobile phones so all we could do was wait for him to turn up.
When he arrived, he didn’t even look at the damage, paid Daddy the money they had agreed and drove straight back home, he didn’t even have a cup of tea.
The next Christmas my Mother bought a Turkey as usual from the butcher (and she used to make the most wonderful chestnut stuffing, and that’s another story) in readiness for the hoards who would be arriving in the next day or two and then on Christmas Eve evening a car pulled down the drive and there was the man from South Wales in the Bristol bearing a gift of the biggest turkey you have ever seen! Mummy was overcome (the other Turkey was later sawn in two and frozen) and offered the man tea, supper a bed for the night but he wouldn’t stay and left saying Happy Christmas. He came back for the next 3 or 4 years, even after we had moved house (I suppose they must have written Christmas cards or something like that), he would never stop for a cup of tea or a meal and we were quite sure if he was definitely comming which meant we did eat alot of Turkey in those days! But his turkeys were wonderful. I found out later (I was quite small at this time) that he was a Turkey farmer in South Wales and collected classic cars, having a particular penchant for Bristols. He must be long gone now, I wonder what happened to that beautufil car.
So I wish those of you who celebrate at this time of the year, Season’s Greetings. I hope you all enjoy the holiday whether it be quiet one or one full of noise and merriment. I shall take a few days off and be back with more posts in the New Year. 