christmas past

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I got ever-so confused when I opened the fridge door to grab the milk for my tea this morning. The blasted thing was full! Every shelf was filled with Christmas-y delights and munchables. Of course, I knew it was full because we went shopping last night, but normally I open the fridge and there's little but milk, marge and Coke Zero in it. We are going to have even tubbier bellies than normal once the shenanigans of Christmas has passed. I awoke this morning with happy thoughts filling my head. The thoughts concerned Christmas Past and the joy that comes from being a child at this time of year. So, happiness in my childhood Christmases came from ... Some chap in a van driving over from Northampton with presents galore from my Auntie and Uncle. This was usually a week or two before the actual day, and we would wait very excitedly to see the van turn the corner at the end of the road. *squee* Christmas Eve brought with it the film, Summer Holiday. Every year. At least, it felt like every year. Maybe it was only once, but I'm pretty sure it was every year. This used to tickle my fancy, what with it being the most non-Christmas-y film in the world. Christmas Eve also brought Carols. We went to the Co-op Car Park where Jesus lay in a manger, within a small stable made of straw bales. We would sing our little cheery hearts out, knowing that soon we'd be going home, falling asleep and then it would be CHRISTMAS!!! In our house {built at the beginning of the 1970s} we didn't have a chimney. Instead, Father Christmas came via the pipe connected to the oil burner thingy, through the little copper plate which was screwed to the side. I think we thought he was a bit like Doctor Who, with his very own magical screwdriver. We didn't have stockings at the end of the bed ... we had pillowcases under the tree. That delight which comes from creeping down stairs and opening the living room door to discover pillowcases full to the brim with presents and toys ... I don't think there is anything else that can be compared to that. Genuinely, nothing. It's pure magic. I once insisted that we sing Happy Birthday to Baby Jesus. I wonder if Mumsy remembers that. I'm beginning to find some excitement in Christmas now. It's taken a few weeks, but I can feel the excitement bubbling away under the surface of my mind. But I'm also anxious. Which is silly, but that's Anxiety for you ... He doesn't care, he just excels at making you anxious about things that should make you go *squee* ...