Christmases Past (and Presents)...by Sheila Claydon

 

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I haven't written any books with Christmas in them but Loving Ellen (Book 2 of Mapleby Memories) has exactly the right cover. I can imagine little Ellen's excitement when she wakes up on Christmas morning and sees a bulging stocking at the end of her bed. And that imagining has made me remember some of the favourite gifts I received as a child.

The first one I can clearly recall is a pair of rabbit fur mittens. I was about 5 years old. The fur was on top, the palm was leather, and there was a gathering of elastic at the wrist so they wouldn't fall off. They were so soft and warm and  I wore them for most of the Christmas holiday, indoors and out, often rubbing the furry side against my face. I adored them. In those days it was real fur too. Nowadays it would be faux. We also used to eat rabbit in those long ago days not long after the war, so it seemed entirely natural to use their fur for hats and gloves, whereas now rabbit pie has all but disappeared from the British culinary tradition and rabbits are mostly children's pets.

Another present I remember was a doll house. It was really special although I didn't know how special until years later when I realised my parents had made it for me. It was only a few years after WW2 so toys were in short supply and money was too. But by using wooden boxes, scraps of wallpaper and carpet, and by contriving beds, chairs and sofas out of matchboxes plumped up with cotton wool and covered in old dress material, they conjured up the most marvellous gift. It had four fully furnished rooms and a family of tiny rubber dolls. The baby's cradle was half a walnut shell. I loved it beyond words.

I remember, too, the artist's palette, 3 canvases and box of oil paints I received from a much older cousin when I was about 14 and fancying myself as a painter. My poor grandmother and my father patiently sat  for hours while I painted them. Although I am no artist I did capture their likeness and my mother hung them in the hall until I left home. She then removed them somewhat rapidly and I am quite sure with a sigh of relief.

I remember the baby doll too. I insisted it was a boy and called him Michael. Maybe prescient as that's my husband's name! He was almost new born baby size and my mother, who had kept my old carry cot ready for another child who sadly never arrived, let me use it for Michael along with the covers and shawls I had been wrapped in as a baby. I had a doll pram too but I don't remember how or when that arrived or whether it was new or second hand. I do know it was maroon though.

Then, when I was about nine years old, I had the book Christmas! I don't remember what my parents gave me, but everyone else gave me a book. I had a great many aunts and uncles and cousins, so that was quite a lot of books. At least ten, and not a single one replicated. Nor had I read any of them before. There was What Katy Did, What Katy Did Next, Little Women, one of Enid Blyton's Famous Five books, Swallows and Amazons, Children of the New Forest and Heidi to name a few. I don't remember them all but I know my parents had a very peaceful time because I spent Christmas with my nose in one book after another. And although I already loved reading, I think that was the year I started writing too. I can remember turning a cupboard in my bedroom into a desk with pencil, rubber and notepad laid out neatly on the shelf and a small stool tucked underneath. None of my early scribblings survived but I do remember writing about a girl called Dorothy although what her story was about is lost in the mists of time.

Christmas for children is wonderful if they are lucky enough to be part of a caring family. Nowadays, so many years later, I enjoy my Christmases vicariously through the eyes and excitement of my grandchildren, and, although I hardly dare admit it, my grand dogs, cat and horses!! According to my granddaughters they are so much part of the family that they can't be left out. However I don't think dog biscuits, catnip and hay nets will have the same lasting memories for them that my early Christmases have for me. 

As I get older I relish the memories and know how lucky I was, and still am. I hope you have your own wonderful memories too.

Merry Christmas!

Christmases Past...by Sheila Claydon

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One of the first of my books published by Books We Love is Cabin Fever. It is the story of Ellie and Drew who both chose to work at Christmas rather than spending time with their loved ones. Instead they joined the ship The Osprey as Cruise Director and lead dancer on its journey from Aukland to Sydney and back. Thinking back to how the story came to be written set me thinking about Christmases past. Then I read fellow writer Nancy M Bell's post of 18 December where she reminisced about the changes we have all experienced in the last 50-100 years, and even more memories returned.

I was born when rationing and shortages were still very much part of life in the UK, so Christmases then were very different from now. Parents, unless they were wealthy, had to be inventive when it came to presents, and mine certainly were. I remember the doll house they made me. It was no more than a box divided into 4 rooms. The outside had stick on paper bricks and the roof had stick on paper tiles.  Somehow they had found scraps of carpet and wallpaper to cover the floors and walls, and there were handmade curtains on the painted on windows. The couch and matching chairs were made from matchboxes covered in a blue floral fabric and the painted chest of drawers was made from matchboxes too. The wooden bed had a knitted blanket and tiny pillows stuffed with cotton wool. There were other things, including a family of tiny dolls, and I absolutely loved it. I didn't worry that there were no stairs or internal doors. Nor that when the front was closed I couldn't see inside. I cherished that doll house for years and it was only when I was much older that I realised how much love had gone into the making of it. 

I remember, too, the blue pinafore dress that arrived one Christmas. It was  dark blue with bright pink daisies embroidered around the bodice and I loved it. It was much later that I discovered it had been made from my mother's airforce uniform and that she had sawn it together and embroidered the daisies. My father, who had worked in the northern mills before the war as a cutter, had made the pattern and cut it out for her.

When I see what my grandchildren receive now at Christmas, I don't begrudge any of it, but I do wonder if they enjoy their Christmas stockings quite as much as children did when there was so much less to be had. Then, the tangerine in the toe together with a small bar of chocolate, a packet of wax crayons, a colouring book and maybe some plasticine and a few other things were the highlight of the year. I remember a mouth organ, a set of dibs or jacks (does anyone play that now?) a skipping rope, a drawing pad, a small box of watercolour paints, and of course books. Books were read again and again and if they began to fall apart they were mended and covered with brown paper. I still have a very battered book that was my mother's when she was a child and which she read to me, one chapter every Sunday, until we finished it. Then, when I was older, I read and re-read it for myself. It is one of the original copies of Anne of Green Gables, and it is still one of my favourite stories.

Nancy is right. Times have certainly changed but they have left behind some lovely memories.

Happy Christmas everyone. May you all be blessed and may 2023 be good to us all.