I can’t remember a bad Christmas from when we were kids. My dad loves Christmas: an over-abundance of decorations food and gifts; games, TV and friends. He’s always been a generous man who likes to give to people, especially friends and family, and Christmas for him is the ultimate expression of this. He’s a big kid too. He revels in ripping wrapping paper off to uncover the gift within. Socks, smellies, books, it doesn’t matter what it is, the unveiling is half the thrill.
As he’s got older his Christmas ‘novelty’ purchases have become more garish, more ridiculous even, asserting their Christmassyness so they can’t be ignored. He’s never lost his love of the season, and every year the tree and decorations and lights go up at the beginning of December.
He’s not bothered about getting gifts per se, and always tells my sister and I not to bother. We tend to give comestibles, things we’ve made very often, sometimes things we’ve bought. Make no mistake he enjoys them – and him alone! Chocolates and foodie gifts are never for sharing, which is really strange in such a generous man.
A love of Christmas is one of the things he’s passed on to my sister and I. We celebrate in our own ways and have made our own traditions, pared down, less gregarious, but a festivity nonetheless. I think the joy has been contagious….