BY the time you read this, your Christmas celebrations will probably have begun. The cards will all be sent, gifts wrapped and shopping done.
At Edmonds Towers, here in Great Marton, She Who Knows and I will be raising a glass in early evening to the accompaniment of carols from King’s College, Cambridge, on the television; perhaps while savouring a light supper of pâté, toast and salad with relish – all very gentle and civilised, by the candle-lit fireplace.
However, it wasn’t always so in Christmases past.
Only as a boy did I spend the seasonal festivities at home, when we had fruit and chocolate coins in stockings, new socks and hankies, with a handful of presents.
Later, three generations would enjoy a roast chicken spoiled, for me, only by the knowledge it was one of Dad’s and I’d named them all.
Later on, I seemed – like many others these days – to spend Christmas Eve travelling long distances through atrocious weather to meet up with assorted widespread family members, then sleeping in a small corner of an overcrowded house to be awoken early by dogs and some very, very excited children.
Happily, those days – while fun at times – have gone.
Nowadays it’s just a few adults enjoying turkey with all the trimmings after a few drinks then, when ready, retiring comfortably to our own beds.
Perhaps a little of the wonder has gone but I still relish it, as I do a church carols service. I hope readers, too, get time to enjoy some rest and shared festivity.
Hopefully, there is still some wonder too – as popular Poet Laureate John Betjeman wrote in his Christmas tribute:
‘And is it true? And is it true, this most tremendous tale of all... The Maker of the stars and sea, become a child on earth for me?’
Merry Christmas to you all.
* For more from Roy or his books, visit www.royedmonds-blackpool.com.