A Nostalgic Christmas Story

A Christmas Scene of Bygone Days (when tins of Quality Street
were a decent size!) : December's Calendar hanging in our study

Part I : The Nostalgia Of Then

It was December 22nd and after another busy day of preparing Christmas savouries and treats, we flopped down wearily on the sofa in front of the TV just as a special edition of The Repair Shop began with its opening credits.  As stories of much-loved, once glorious but now tired and worn family heirlooms unfolded, two particular tales sent a huge wave of nostalgia over me and tugged me gently and invitingly back to the Christmases of my childhood.  I settled deeper into my comfortable seat, bathed in the warmth and flickering light of our log fire, and while clutching a hot mug of tea and freshly baked mince pie, I was reminded why Christmas holds such special memories and why it will always remain a magical time for me. 

The first story was of a vintage radiogram.  The second was of an old music box fashioned as a carousel which had once played Jingle Bells.  My eyes glistened and I wept little happy tears as my own stories replayed alongside those which the two families had brought.    

As a child, we had a 'posh' sitting room.  The door to it would remain firmly closed, only to open to welcome and entertain invited guests, or for special family occasions like Christmas of course, or simply to be used as a place of quiet solitude for my parents when they needed a break from their four offspring.

Under the window sat a radiogram, never to be moved from its position; the heavy legs permitted only to set four 'dimples' in the expensive carpet.  It wasn't the first one I remember.  Years before, in a previous home, there sat a much grander one made of walnut which my parents would have bought in the late 50s after they were married.  Thinking about it now, it must have cost a pretty penny.  Both radiograms are long gone but the nostalgia remains.  After opening the cabinet lid and setting up his chosen method of play, my dad would settle back in his chair with his feet rested on the footstool, and sounds of jazz or brass bands would begin to float around the room.  I would watch his foot tap in time to the music and his hand, supported above his elbow which in turn rested on the chair, would sway in the air with his fingertips conducting the mini orchestra sounds resonating from the cabinet beside him.  He'd try to educate me on the finer points of music while retelling his years in the Salvation Army band, but his efforts were sadly lost on his youngest child!

A 1950s Radiogram, not unlike the one our family once owned. 

Like the two sisters on the programme, I also remember sitting at the top of the stairs (when I should have been in bed!) listening to the music coming from the living room, while my parents entertained their guests.  

Back in The Repair Shop, when the repair was done, the two sisters were treated to the delights of Nat King Cole singing "Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire", something they'd not been able to do since their parents were alive.  The magic in their embrace, and the happy memory tears that flowed, brought all my Christmases back once more: sitting in that 'posh' sitting room with only the light of the Christmas Tree to see by.  I'd breathe in the aroma of fresh pine and wonder if I should dare lift the lid and find something to play.  I was forbidden to touch such an expensive piece of kit of course, and I was certain my parents could see through walls so, of course, the lid remained firmly shut. 

At the serenade from a repaired radiogram, tears for the
special memories then brought of Christmases past

Christmas mornings would sometimes be heralded by the music coming from that radiogram and it would only have ever been Bing Crosby or Nat King Cole. 

In that same 'posh' room, just inside the door, stood a cabinet which displayed all sorts of porcelain.  Atop the cabinet every Christmas sat our own music box; a Christmas Tree which, when wound, would gently revolve to the tune of "White Christmas".  One of my most favourite things to do, aside from decorating the tree, would be to turn the winder underneath that little tree and watch mesmerized while it played its little song.  I'd repeat the process, lost in my own world, with only this little tree for company until my family wondered where I was and came looking for me. 

That little tree, now somewhat in need of its own trip to The Repair Shop, lives with our eldest sister, quite rightly so since it was bought for her first Christmas in 1959.  In her own words, it's "the most Christmassy thing in the house"!

Part II : The Nostalgia Of Now

Today these childhood memories (and so many more) cement my love of Christmas and a need to hold on tight to them.  It's always been this way with me.  I have never changed.  My houses have always been serenaded by the crooning of Crosby and Cole, been decked with fountains of lights, and my tree has always told a story.  My ovens have turned out the best cakes, sweets and Christmas Dinner that I could possibly muster.  I've got better at this as time has passed; my earlier offerings being more "it's the thought that counts" than "something resembling edible".

Finca Tres Hermanos is now where new nostalgia is made and it seems I'm now competing with myself to make each year better than the last, such is my desire to share the magic of the kind of Christmases I once experienced as a child, with my new family. 

Whether they like it or not, this family is now subject to my utter giddiness with Christmas and they shall just have to tolerate my proffering of cake, sweets, pies and ... more cake until they can't move.  They'll sit through repeats of White Christmas, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and Love Actually to keep me happy and with a bit of luck, they'll enjoy them too. 

Our dining table resembles a 'Kirsty's Homemade Christmas Crafting Bee' in the weeks leading up to the Festive Season, and the house fills with the aromas of sweet treats, boozy Christmas cakes, mince pies, and savouries coming from the kitchen.  And all while Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole bring their serenading spirits from my old houses to this new one. It takes me hours to adorn the house with lights while Scott's gentle bemoaning of the cost of replacement batteries falls on my (literally!) deaf ears.  

But Scott doesn't escape reasons to be nostalgic.  The fairy that sits on top of our tree was bought for Daniel when his baby brother Ben was born.  Like many 2 year-olds, he had to be reassured that he still mattered, and it seems the Christmas Tree fairy did the trick.  Years later, her tinfoil dress and wings fell off, and so did her hair.  This year, however, on Scott's insistence that she was too special to be 'retired', she's had a makeover and now sits proudly atop once more with a new dress, new wings and, of course, new hair.  Her face fittingly still bears the faded pen scribbles of an exuberant toddler and rightly so.  Our tree now tells two stories; of both our Christmases Past and Present.

Our beautiful tree, full of nostalgia

It's fitting really that our tree represents us the way that it does. Laden with adornments combined from our once separate lives, it now brings together our love for each other, his love for his boys, and my love for them all.  It proudly stands as a reminder that Christmas is full of wonderful memories; old ones cherished and new ones eagerly waiting to be made.  

All I want for Christmas is a family that keeps coming back for more!

Finally, as I glance at December's calendar for nearly the last time, I look at the picture of nostalgia there and ponder that the scene is .... "Just Like The Ones We Used To Know".

Seasons Greetings, with Love, from Finca Tres Hermanos