My First Christmas

The first Christmas I can remember is the Christmas of 1982 when I was three years old. This was the first Christmas my parents had bought me gifts, as I was old enough to really start getting the idea of Christmas celebrations.

We spent Christmas Eve at my paternal grandparents' house. I am told that I received a bar of chocolate from them, my first Christmas present ever. I was apparently so happy with my gift, my parents felt a bit silly, as they'd been excited about my first Christmas and had bought me loads of presents that were waiting for me at home (where we'd celebrate Christmas as well).

This I don't remember (although I do remember one of the gifts they did get me, a stuffed toy lioness which I had for well over ten years, so their presents did last longer than the chocolate), but what I do remember is the Christmas tree.

It was big. The silvery star atop reached all the way to the high ceiling, and the branches were massive. I could crawl under the tree, and hide from everything as only a three-year-old can, amazed and keen to take a closer look at this enormous fir.

There were all these colourful decorations, lines of paper flags of all different countries, gingerbread decorations and tinsel. And candles. Not tiny electric fairylights, but real, delicate candles, perching on the branches by brass clasps. This had a lasting effect on me, to the extent I still remember it to this day. The tiny flames illuminating the whole tree, making the decorations come alive in the flickering light.

In this day and age of fire hazard awareness, I eye our electric fairylights with suspicion, but still conjure up images of that very first Christmas, with those incredible little candles.

Merry Christmas Everyone