My earliest memory is of a huge family party on Boxing day – we had to hire a hall, there were so many of us! That was before Dad’s extended family began to drift away from London. My family are Salvation Army, so every Christmas Eve, the band would play carols outside the houses of people who couldn’t get out to services, usually finishing up at our house, then coming in for a mince pie & a cup of tea. Waking up on Christmas Morning and finding my stocking filled at the end of the bed, then rushing into Mum & Dad’s room & opening it on their bed. And the year Dad got a sack of coal in his stocking for being naughty (well, a small paper bag of coal… and there were pressies underneath) And always an apple, a satsuma, some nuts and a SUGAR MOUSE with a string tail. Then having to eat breakfast and wait for Dad to set up the cine camera & floodlights before we were allowed to go into the front room (blinking in the light) to have our big presents. The time Dad forgot to put a film in the camera and we had to pose with all our presents pretending to look surprised 2 days later – having developed a bad dose of flu by then. Gramdma always had a wooden box of Turkish Delight – we still get one now, 15 years after her last Christmans with us. Then Nanna & Granddad coming over on Boxing Day & Auntie Pat phoning up from work (she was a BT operator) to put us through to Uncle George in New Zealand so the call would be free._________________Eileen
