Christmas (1)

Christmases were always a lot of fun, notwithstanding the fact that my father was very against spoiling children, so gifts were usually in pretty short supply.  My mother had to virtually squeeze every present out of him to be able to put something into our pillow cases, which were placed at the bottom of our beds on Christmas eve.

We often spent Christmas with an uncle and aunt of mine who were by our standards very well off.  My cousin who was one of my best friends when we were children, had a playroom which rivalled some of the finest toy stores in  town.  This was a source of great wonder and enjoyment to me every time we visited them.  I would become quite frenetic as I spun from one toy to another.  Once in my great excitement while playing with a set of miniature lead pirate figures, I managed to break off Long John Silvers only leg!  I retreated under someones bed for a very long time, only emerging once I had been reassured over and over again by my middle sister that we would buy another one.

It was here that I received the worst Christmas present in my entire life.  The second worst Christmas present I ever received came a month late in the mail and was a squat, red coloured King James bible.  Not that I have anything against bibles, I just didn't want one at that particular point in time.  Reading it proved to be a mission, as it read like some strange medieval language.  I eventually took it to boarding school and used it to store all my birthday "holy cards" between the pages, but thats another story.

The excitement and thrill of waking up on Christmas morning, wondering what I had received turned into bitter disappointment, as out from the bottom of the pillow case came the swimming costume that I had been wearing for the past three weeks.  No matter how hard I felt around, nothing else emerged.  It felt as if someone had poured cold water all over my head.  To make matters worse, I had to put on a brave face and tell my cousin who had received more toys and books than you can imagine, that I had only got a sort of used, black, school regulation swimming costume and nothing more.

My father always used to say to me "I've got to toughen you up"  Somehow I instinctively knew that he was going about it the wrong way, but at the age of nine how can one say those things to ones father?