Not childhood, but high school: going for a walk, running into a friend and going back to her apartment, eating, sipping wine, talking, and completely forgetting it was Christmas Eve; she’s an LA lawyer now after several years living in Central America.
As a child i cherished the times with uncle "Afghan Alf" , Dad side of the family, camper than a row of tents, glamper than the limpest of Lionel's, a wonderful cross dressing cacophony of colour and candour,
I would corner Mum and Dad with question after question. Alf is wearing your lip stick Mum, why?
Uncle Alf the ayatollah of sheer peculiar, odd eccentricity. however never a Christmas would he not sparkle savour the world around him
In families that didn't have a lot of cash, a 70s Christmas was the only time you could bag a major gift: a train set, a bike, into the 80s, a micro. So, presents.
Making decorations (at school and at home) and decorating the Christmas tree. To date, two artificial ones, one retired after three decades, but retained as a family heirloom, a second lasting the next two decades surmounted each year by a giant red star worthy of the Kremlin.
Also food. What were rare treats through the year would be everywhere at Christmas. You were expected to eat yourself into a coma to show proper appreciation to female members of the family who had proven their value by delivering every component of the traditional Christmas feast.
A quarter of our kitchen was taken up by a commercial-size chest freezer, half the contents of which would be served up over Christmas. As well as posh luxuries such as arctic roll (ice cream in cake! How?!) and butter biscuits all the way from exotic Denmark, The Turkey, the size of an ostrich, would have been wedged into the oven at the crack of dawn and fussed over like a delicate child. Your reputation as a wife, mother and member of humanity would depend on the quality of one enormous meal. The rest of the day and evening would be spent watching the BBC (middle classes and aspiring working class) or ITV (plebs). For tea, if you were still conscious, you would be expected to consume Christmas cake, picking out the inedible currants and candied peel, as well as endless biscuits, sweets, tins of 'fruit salad' (the syrup being drunk), ritz crackers, dates, mince pies, nuts, custard, ice cream, jelly, blancmange, iced gems, battenberg cake and the highpoint of 70s cuisine, Angel Delight. Anything left over would be fried up for Boxing Day breakfast to prepare your digestive system for Boxing Day lunch. I'm surprised any of us made it into the 80s, but for all the expense, stress and calories everyone seems to remember it fondly, including me.
I forgot the annuals, typically given as Christmas gifts. Hardback book-length versions of your favourite comics. They were a big deal for kids in the 70s and 80s and eagerly awaited. Beano, Dandy, Whizzer and Chips, Buster, Topper, the weirdly A3-sized Beezer, Valiant, Shoot. And then of course, the best of them all, 2000AD.
As an excitable young Guru , around age 5 and 6 , I would get so hyped up over Christmas Day presents that I would develop a type of nervous asthma and have to be put to bed early.
Missed out on the Christmas pudding with six pence coins hidden within.
None... not that I had a horrible childhood or parents... only that I don't remember having good memories... and those I have are usually come with a feeling of lonliness and sorrow.
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Great Bird
Presents.
borscht
Not childhood, but high school: going for a walk, running into a friend and going back to her apartment, eating, sipping wine, talking, and completely forgetting it was Christmas Eve; she’s an LA lawyer now after several years living in Central America.
itsonlyrocknroll
As a child i cherished the times with uncle "Afghan Alf" , Dad side of the family, camper than a row of tents, glamper than the limpest of Lionel's, a wonderful cross dressing cacophony of colour and candour,
I would corner Mum and Dad with question after question. Alf is wearing your lip stick Mum, why?
Uncle Alf the ayatollah of sheer peculiar, odd eccentricity. however never a Christmas would he not sparkle savour the world around him
I miss him dearly.
GBR48
In families that didn't have a lot of cash, a 70s Christmas was the only time you could bag a major gift: a train set, a bike, into the 80s, a micro. So, presents.
Making decorations (at school and at home) and decorating the Christmas tree. To date, two artificial ones, one retired after three decades, but retained as a family heirloom, a second lasting the next two decades surmounted each year by a giant red star worthy of the Kremlin.
Also food. What were rare treats through the year would be everywhere at Christmas. You were expected to eat yourself into a coma to show proper appreciation to female members of the family who had proven their value by delivering every component of the traditional Christmas feast.
A quarter of our kitchen was taken up by a commercial-size chest freezer, half the contents of which would be served up over Christmas. As well as posh luxuries such as arctic roll (ice cream in cake! How?!) and butter biscuits all the way from exotic Denmark, The Turkey, the size of an ostrich, would have been wedged into the oven at the crack of dawn and fussed over like a delicate child. Your reputation as a wife, mother and member of humanity would depend on the quality of one enormous meal. The rest of the day and evening would be spent watching the BBC (middle classes and aspiring working class) or ITV (plebs). For tea, if you were still conscious, you would be expected to consume Christmas cake, picking out the inedible currants and candied peel, as well as endless biscuits, sweets, tins of 'fruit salad' (the syrup being drunk), ritz crackers, dates, mince pies, nuts, custard, ice cream, jelly, blancmange, iced gems, battenberg cake and the highpoint of 70s cuisine, Angel Delight. Anything left over would be fried up for Boxing Day breakfast to prepare your digestive system for Boxing Day lunch. I'm surprised any of us made it into the 80s, but for all the expense, stress and calories everyone seems to remember it fondly, including me.
GBR48
I forgot the annuals, typically given as Christmas gifts. Hardback book-length versions of your favourite comics. They were a big deal for kids in the 70s and 80s and eagerly awaited. Beano, Dandy, Whizzer and Chips, Buster, Topper, the weirdly A3-sized Beezer, Valiant, Shoot. And then of course, the best of them all, 2000AD.
GuruMick
As an excitable young Guru , around age 5 and 6 , I would get so hyped up over Christmas Day presents that I would develop a type of nervous asthma and have to be put to bed early.
Missed out on the Christmas pudding with six pence coins hidden within.
So, mixed memories for me I suppose.
Daniel Neagari
None... not that I had a horrible childhood or parents... only that I don't remember having good memories... and those I have are usually come with a feeling of lonliness and sorrow.
John-San
Then scent of the Xmas tree.