Thread: A child's Christmas in Wales

^Great story, Welshman. It brings back memories. I have so many happy Christmas memories. Christmas was very traditional for me growing up.

As my mom had seven brothers and sisters, we had a huge family that centered around Grandpa and Grandma's house every year. Christmas eve consisted of piling into my grandparents house filled with the smell of homemade apple, pumpkin, and lemon meringue pie. Sounds of cousins laughter filled the house that brought together one big happy family. The smell of the real Christmas tree filled the living room, that was packed with carefully wrapped gifts for all grandchildren. Checking under the tree for my gift, and trying not to knock the tree over, was a memory every year. While the adults got loaded on rum and eggnog, my cousins, and I would sit around the candy filled table, playing cards, and dominoes.

Christmas morning would consist of getting up very early to see what Santa had brought under the tree. I knew Santa had came because the gifts that were not wrapped meant Santa had been generous that year; or I had been a good girl as it happened.

Grandma and Grandpa would join us, and would cry, tears of joy at every gift they received, no matter how small or cheap. I would be reminded by grandma how much, my mom went overboard with gifts. After opening presents, mom would make a big brunch, including eggs, ham, bacon, fruit, and eggnog for all to enjoy.

Christmas day would consist of visiting relatives, and opening more gifts, and eating more candies, and chocolates. Dinner would consist of a feast of all the fixings, including: turkey, stuffing, cranberries, turnips, mashed potatoes, and grandmas homemade tortiere pie. Afterwards, I'd be asked to comb grandma's hair, while she fell asleep while snoring as loud as could be. Ahhh, those were the days.

hanky panky nohow

^

i thought exactly the same thing when i read the thread title!

Originally Posted by phuketbound

^Great story, Welshman. It brings back memories. I have so many happy Christmas memories. Christmas was very traditional for me growing up.

As my mom had seven brothers and sisters, we had a huge family that centered around Grandpa and Grandma's house every year. Christmas eve consisted of piling into my grandparents house filled with the smell of homemade apple, pumpkin, and lemon meringue pie. Sounds of cousins laughter filled the house that brought together one big happy family. The smell of the real Christmas tree filled the living room, that was packed with carefully wrapped gifts for all grandchildren. Checking under the tree for my gift, and trying not to knock the tree over, was a memory every year. While the adults got loaded on rum and eggnog, my cousins, and I would sit around the candy filled table, playing cards, and dominoes.

Christmas morning would consist of getting up very early to see what Santa had brought under the tree. I knew Santa had came because the gifts that were not wrapped meant Santa had been generous that year; or I had been a good girl as it happened.

Grandma and Grandpa would join us, and would cry, tears of joy at every gift they received, no matter how small or cheap. I would be reminded by grandma how much, my mom went overboard with gifts. After opening presents, mom would make a big brunch, including eggs, ham, bacon, fruit, and eggnog for all to enjoy.

Christmas day would consist of visiting relatives, and opening more gifts, and eating more candies, and chocolates. Dinner would consist of a feast of all the fixings, including: turkey, stuffing, cranberries, turnips, mashed potatoes, and grandmas homemade tortiere pie. Afterwards, I'd be asked to comb grandma's hair, while she fell asleep while snoring as loud as could be. Ahhh, those were the days.

Beautiful memory. Sounds just like mine. Grandma and Grandpa coming over or we going over there was the highlight of the Christmas Day. There too was the smell of a fresh Christmas tree hand-picked by my parents/grandparents. And the smell of gifts. And we used to sing Christmas carols and hold candles in the morning and our parents would take pictures.

My grandmother made chocolate pie. Still the best in the world. She's in assisted living now and of course can't do that anymore, but the memories will live with me forever.

I remember seeing a Ray Bradbury film called "The Electric Grandmother." It was about a little boy and girl who lost their grandmother, and their father purchased a new robot grandmother. Was interesting.

I can understand the mischief Welshman talked about. My best friend and me in school were pyros. One time we tried to light the dried grass in front of our elementary school on fire. A couple of days later a fireman had come to the school and the principal called us down to his office and the fireman gave us a lecture..."Do you know the damage from just one match can do?"

I can add very little to that. A very nice evocative piece, Welshman. Green for you.

And as my family originated from Sellatyn, near Oswestry on the Welsh borders, close to my heart. Except that was 250 years ago and I was born a Geordie!

Very, very similar, except we didn't call the leftovers (as you say, easily as good as the Christmas dinner) stwlch (sp?).

Did you have thrupenny bits and tanners in the Christmas pud, wrapped in greaseproof paper??

Originally Posted by LoveBucket

snob

Not me mate. That was me rich pals.

Ha'pennies and pennies in wor hoos, man.

I was lucky though. My mam is Dutch, so we celebrated St Nicholas' (Santa Claus, geddit?) Day on 5th December and so my younger brother and I had a few small prezzies then, a sort of early Christmas.

We still left a mince pie and a glass of sherry for him, though, but put out a clog instead of a stocking, and a carrot for the Dutch version of Rudolph.

Originally Posted by Welshman

No, not the Dylan Thomas one, but mine.

It was an age of innocence and we had many myths to take account of. Sion Corn (as he’s known in Wales) would know if you had been a good boy or not and bad boys didn’t get any presents – just a bag of cinders, so we all tried to be on our best behaviour.

The first taste of Christmas would come in the last days of term at school. We would all sit at our desks making paper chains to drape around the school. On the last day of term as a special treat, we were allowed to bring in toys, comic books, whatever and share them with our classmates.

The run up to Christmas started much later then. About a week before, all the shop staff would be feverishly decorating the shops with glitter and fairy lights and suddenly the shopping centre would be a blaze of light and colour.

At home, too, we would all wade in with decorating the tree and decking the house with those concertina paper chain things, holly and mistletoe.

The Sunday morning before Christmas, there would be a special service at the chapel. It was all done by the children. The older ones would read parts of the Christmas story from the bible while the younger ones would re-enact the nativity. One Christmas, I was asked to be one of the wise men (serious miscasting, I know). My mother had draped me in an ornate tablecloth and I carried a bottle of toilet water as one of the gifts. I seem to remember that the top was leaking and I reeked of perfume for days after.

Christmas Eve, there was a formality to go through – leaving a mince pie and a glass of sherry for Sion Corn on the mantelpiece of the fire place. Then up to bed and the worse part of Christmas – trying to get to sleep. Sion Corn would know if you were sleeping or not and if you weren’t – well, he’d carry on his journey without coming to your house.

Christmas morning at last. There was a sock on the bed stuffed with silly stuff like balloons, small toys and, stuffed down the toe, a tangerine.

Downstairs now and, always, I ran over to the fire place to check the mince pie and glass. Yes, a bite had been taken out of the mince pie and the glass was empty. Silly now, I suppose, but that sight always held me in awe.

Open presents time. Invariably you hadn’t got exactly what you wanted but it was always good and always enough. Times were much more frugal then and we were grateful for what we’d got.

Another ritual I loved was going out of the front door and standing outside the house. In those days, Christmas was for immediate family – no-one went anywhere. No planes, no cars, no people, it seemed even the dogs were quiet and I would stay there for a while listening to the Christmas Hush.

Playing with my presents I could smell the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen where my mother was busy with the Christmas dinner. At last she’d call me through for dinner – turkey, stuffing, apple sauce, brussel sprouts, parsnips and the rest. Then the pudding, aflame with brandy and smothered in white sauce.

We lived in the coastal town of Rhyl, so after dinner we’d walk it off on the promenade. Many other parents up there with their kids – the boys showing off their new roller skates, tricycles and scooters while the girls would be attired in new coats, hats, gloves or mittens.

Back home my mother would prepare the Christmas tea. Cold cuts of turkey, maybe some ham (if she could get it – a lot of stuff was still on ration in those days) pickled onions and bread and butter. Following up we’d have a big trifle (sherry trifle if my mum could afford a bottle) hot home made mince pies and, the crowing glory, the Christmas cake. It was always home made with plenty of marzipan and icing.

In the evening we’d settle in front of the TV. There was usually a special variety show or even a film.

Boxing Day, and I wanted to rush round to friends’ houses to show them my presents. But Boxing Day was usually the day that relatives called round and I had to be on hand to help serving up cups of tea, sandwiches and kissing aunties I didn’t even know I had.

Boxing Day lunch we’d usually have ‘stwnsh’ – a mash of potatoes and veg from the Christmas dinner, served up with more cold turkey and, if I was lucky, mum would let me chomp on one of the legs (I often thought that the stwnsh was as good as the actual Christmas dinner).

The next day, it was back to normal. Christmas really was just the two days. We didn’t really make a lot of New Year and, back then, New Year’s Day wasn’t a holiday.

We didn’t have an awful lot back then and our pleasures seem quite low key compared with modern Christmases. But I always enjoyed them and often reminisce about Christmas past.


Anyone else want to add their Christmas memories as a child?

I've never heard of any English people spending Xmas in fucking Wales.

Come to think of it, I've never met any English people who own a holiday home in Wales.

Maybe I move in the right circles where that latter point is concerned.