I don't seem to remember many white Christmas's as it seemd to either be very cold or very wet when leaving the church. But I suppose that was typical London weather. Once back home, the traditional hanging of the pillowcase at the end of the bed, and I seem to remember fights amongst my own children at a later date when they had progressed from pillowcases to Post Office sacks, which I picked up from the local postal office. I don't know if they thought that if they got the biggest sack, then they got more presents inside it! Kids eh!!!
The feeling of waking up the next morning and moving a foot against a hard object hidden inside the pillow case on the bed was one of sheer orgasmic pleasure! HE'D BEEN!! Then a mad tumble down to the end of the bed and that thought of "How can I open as many of these as possible without waking anyone else up?" My mum says I always woke up early, usually around 4:00 or 5:00am and, as I slept in a bunk bed with my brother below me, he invariably woke up as well...after all...it hardly seemed fair to open mine on my own withut me having a look at his stuff too! Mum still remembers being woken up by a tank noisily blowing up the rest of the world as it drove itself around my bedroom floor at 3:00am!!!
I suppose age has a lot to do with Christmas, as you get older the presents don't seem as many as the year before...something my partner doesn't appreciate!!!!! (She still expects the same amount of prssies as she got as a little girl.....me? I can't remember as far back as that...did they REALLY have electricity that long ago?) Once you get older and have your own kids the feelings change a bit and you tend to concentrate on making sure THEY enjoy it as much as YOU did when that age. I suppose somethings never change, they woke up in the early hours as well and YES I had learned my lesson...my kids didn't get the noisy toys until a reasonable time in the morning!!!!
Apart from that? Memories of Morecombe and Wise Christmas shows, The Queens Speech, wrapping stupidly shaped presents with a square piece of wrapping paper always causes me grief, switching labels on the pressies under the tree as a kid, being taken to a long-lost aunts and uncles by my grandfather on Christmas Day morning and getting a few shillings from them as a pressie while Mum
