Memories of my childhood Christmas still warm my heart

As she gets down to her last few days of preparations for Christmas, EMMA CONNOLLY got thinking about her own family's Christmas traditions, from fizzy drinks to some serious desserts

I PROMISED myself I wouldn’t ask but I can’t resist ... are we all set? Raise a glass to yourself if you are (don’t choke on it); and if not, don’t panic, there’s loads more time yet. I’m some place in the middle, I think.

I should be able to make a little bit more progress now though that I’ve finally given up on trying to learn the words to ‘The Twelve days of Christmas.’ I’m good with the maids a milking, ladies dancing, lords a leaping, but it’s those swans a swimming that always catch me for some reason. I was hoping to wow my dinner guests with a dazzling performance of the festive tune but I might just create a bit of razzmatazz by lighting the pudding instead (I think everyone has forgotten about what happened the last time. I’ll share that story another time).

• Anyway, I’m living life on the edge (the verge even) as I’ve still no turkey ordered. My mother suggested going for a 12lb, my sister said a 14lb, and my husband for pure devilment said a 13lb. I think I’ll have to go with my mother as she has quite a few successful Christmas dinners under her belt. That got me thinking back to all the lovely childhood Christmases we had which was all well and good until I started panicking that I’m not creating enough traditions for my own family ....

• We always went to our paternal grandparents on Christmas Eve. Some of us would have been to early mass and others would be going to Midnight mass, and we’d visit them in between. There’d be a few turkey sandwiches, and lovely chats, and maybe a drop of whiskey, before we’d go home to get ahead of Santa. They’d come to us for dinner next day and it was one of the few occasions in the year that we’d use the dining room.

All the ‘good’ stuff would be hauled out: table clothes, proper napkins, the full dinner service – even the gravy boat had its annual chance to shine. It was wonderful – until it came to the washing up. We were a bit late in the day getting a dishwasher and it was a major task. I always kept tabs on who did what the previous year so you wouldn’t be stuck with same job year in year out. I’m a middle child – it explains a lot!

• The spread would be unreal, but what I’d get most excited about was the soft drinks... or the minerals. It was one of the few times of the year that we had them in the house. There’d be (totally tropical) Lilt, Club Orange, Red Lemonade, Cidona and the favourite of all ... Coke. We weren’t allowed open them until Christmas day and there was nearly as much excitement around hearing that turn of the cap and that ‘hisssss’ as there was for Santa. For the adults there was always Blue Nun. To be honest though I don’t think anyone bothered with it and it was possibly the same bottle on the table every year.

Emma Connolly always feared seeing Santa on Christmas Eve and thought she did actually spot him one year. (Photo: Shutterstock)

• No sooner had we cleared up from the dinner and there’d be another spread laid out for the tea. That’s when the chocolate log would make its grand entrance. It always had a little decoration of a child on a sleigh on it. If you looked at it properly it was really freaky but it was a given that he’d take his rightful place there, in the same way a little deer and church were perched on the cake. My mum gave me them to me a few years ago and to my shame they haven’t been on top of anything for a few Christmases (and still have possibly have the remnants of yesteryear’s icing stuck to them!).

We took desserts very seriously, so as well as the pudding there’d be a Charlotte Ruse, Black Forest Gateau, and a pavlova for good measure, along with the standard mince pies, eclairs, and shortbread biscuits. This was the Calor Kosangas Housewife of the Year era after all, and my mum wasn’t about to let the side down. Herself and my aunts always did it in style too – not a pair of leggings in sight. Sweaty Betty wasn’t even heard of. And I never remember anyone saying how wrecked they were or giving out either. Note to self!

• The decorations were ... basic but we didn’t even realise it. Ours didn’t go up until December 20th, my brother's birthday, none of this November business, and they stayed up until Jan 6th, Women’s Little Christmas. You risked a hex upon your house if you brought them down sooner. I always thought our tree was magical, but looking on back at photos it was more twig-like! Homemade logs with a candle stuck in the middle, wrapped in tinsel would get prime spots as it was a glorious time before we all became interior obsessed. One year we were allowed decorate our windows in spray paint. Looking back I was impressed with mother’s relaxed attitude ... I do seem to remember it didn’t happen the following year though.

• On Christmas Eve then you’d have the fear of god in you in case you’d see Santa. I remember if I was sent out to the porch to get a block for the fire I’d nearly kill myself tearing back in, heart pounding, certain I’d heard something on the roof. I’d always spend the night smothered under the blankets, sweating, and one year I was convinced I saw Santa, only he was wearing a white suit with red trimmings. That was pre-Google days though so even if my parents were a bit alarmed by my observations, they couldn’t look up what it meant. There was a lot less fussing then. Probably better off.

• Funnily enough I’ve very little memories of what gifts we got even though Santa was always more than generous. Different years brought different fads: Care Bears, roller skates, Sindy doll houses, Lolo balls (remember them!). We’d always get an annual too: Bunty, Mandy, Judy, Girl etc. There was no such thing as Christmas pjs or jumpers but a new Christmas coat was a big thing.

• So was lighting the Christmas candle at home. It started on Christmas Eve with the eldest, or maybe the youngest. It was always a big thrill when the lights were turned off and we’d say a little prayer. The biggest thrill though, I’m sorry to say, was lighting the match. Is there anything more exciting when you’re small? My nan was a smoker and sometimes she’d give into our pleading and allow us light her Sweet Afton. We used to actually give her a carton of cigarettes as part of her Christmas present. Seems nuts now, but they were different times.

• Then of course there was the Christmas Swim. We’ve been going for more than 40 years. Christmas Day wouldn’t be the same without it and it’s probably the time in the whole year that I miss my dad the most. We always went to the panto in the Opera House as well and I’m gutted that it sold out this year before we got tickets (when did everyone get so organised?). Anyway the fact is that I think we need to work harder to keep old traditions alive and also build new ones. Oh yes we do! Does anyone need a Sweet Afton lit?

• So, Happy Christmas to all our readers. Thanks for your support and the well-timed words of encouragement during the year (especially to the kind ladies I meet in Barryroe Co-op!), and for letting me off a dodgy week here and there. My only Christmas wish is that it’s wet and windy on St Stephen’s Day (properly stormy) as it’s legitimately the only day over the holidays you can really put your feet up and spend it on the couch. Wait for it now, it will be tropically mild and someone will suggest we go all swimming again! See you on the other side.