Wednesday, 6 January 2016


Odd, is it not, how memories are formed and how they 'ignite' on/at the sight/smell or taste of something.
While putting the Christmas tree decorations away yesterday I found the little Father Christmas 'starfish' that has always been on any tree from my childhood onwards.
I thought back over the years: the flat in Muswell Hill, the house in Dorset, our various establishments where the decs have moved with us, Mum having stayed with us each year and happy to let her own tree-decorating end.
Before I wrapped Father C in paper I took a moment to really look at the materials he is made of, consider how many trees he might have been hung on, and actually, what age he must be.
My mother said she didn't really remember where the decoration had come from but was certain it had belonged in her grandmother's house, or possibly had come from some wealthy establishment where she had been 'in service'. Old then! for sure, and the most important part of the Christmas preparations.
The box of tinsel, lights, baubles etc is closed now, F.C carefully placed inside; back into the attic.
Goodbye till next year, then.


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