Games, goats and carrots

    Everybody has a favourite Christmas memory. Fondness makes it is easy to recall your cream of the crop of the UK‘s favourite holiday.

    Own home

    For Norfolk born Kevin, it was, ‘the first time I had Christmas in my own house. This was because I could plan and organise¹ everything myself, everyone had a great time and the house so wonderfully warm and friendly for some time afterwards. In addition I didn’t have a horrendously² long journey and was able to be with my cats.‘

    Games and goats

    Judy from Hoylake cannot decide on her absolute favourite. ‘Two Christmases stand out: One was the first Christmas after my grandparents came to live with us when I wasabout 11 years old. This was the first time we had three generations together at Christmas and we had a lot of games. My mother and my grandmother had a  fund of Victorian parlour games which we played endlessly, and in secret,  my grandfather taught me and my brothers how to play poker³ using matchsticks for ’money‘.

The other Christmas was in Africa in a very remote village. We had a very simple Christmas by Western standards, but the whole family had new clothes for Christmas day; we walked through the cool morning to Church and listened to a beautiful mass sung to African music and rhythms, and then had an open house at home with cauldrons of food and kegs of palm wine for anyone who dropped by. My little children loved the freedom, and went with other children to fetch water from the spring and to collect food for the goats.‘

Carrots and cookies

    Glossop born Kathryn‘s favourite is a familiar story. ’I am not sure how old I was but I always remember my parents used to go to lots of trouble to make me think Father Christmas had been. I used to put carrots and milk out for the reindeer⁴ and cookies and brandy out for Father Christmas and my mum made me lay paper down from the fire place to the tree (so his muddy boots wouldn‘t get on the carpet). Then after I’d gone to bed they would leave the cookies and carrots half eaten, drink some of the milk and brandy and use my dad‘

boots to leave muddy footprints on the paper going to the tree. At the time I totally believed it, it's only now that I realise what trouble they went to!'