A Welsh Christmas in The Valleys 1955.

“Has Father Xmas been?”

Shining, excited eyes,

Throwing back thin blankets

And stepping on the cold linoleum of the bedroom.

The room not cold today though

A fire blazes in the bedroom hearth.

A rare Xmas treat,

Daddy had lit it the night before

And all night long it had glowed and crackled,

Gently lulling us to sleep with its warmth.

A lullaby of soft, warm sounds.

“Where`s my stocking?

What`s in it?”

Five years old

I scrutinise the lumps and bumps

Then plunge my hand into my dads big sock.

Chocolate.

A tangerine.

A little notebook and a pencil.

Nuts and chocolate money and a soap –

“Mickey Mouse” shaped and brightly painted.

The produce of “Imperial Leather”.

Then it`s dressing gowns on and down to breakfast.

New slippers, soft and deeply fluffy are waiting next to the fireside.

My mam calls to us, “Merry Christmas! Come and have your breakfast now.

You can open your presents later.”

Then with breakfast over and washed and dressed,

Tradition now steps in!

“We`ll go and see Nana and Auntie Lyd

And wish them “Merry Xmas”.”

So it`s wellies on and coats and scarves,    

Four abominable snowmen are under those hats!

With frozen faces as icy blasts take their breath away,

Little skinny legs plough through snowdrifts,

Trudging up the hill to “The Big House”

Where my Nana lives.

“Come on in bach!  Merry Xmas”

A roasty, toasty welcome

With cwtches and kisses all round.

The smell of turkey and furniture polish,

And warmth,

And love.

“Nan!  Father Xmas has been!

He brought me a new doll.

I`m going to call her Helen.”

“That`s lovely my sweetheart.

Now how about a little drink for Xmas?

A nice sweet sherry with a bit of pop in it, is it?”

So sweet sherry it was!

Followed by another sweet sherry at my Auntie Lyd`s -- no pop this time!

Then a visit to my Auntie Lovis Mai --avocado and lemonade here!

Auntie Martha  --  sweet sherry,

Auntie Marian  --  lemonade shandy,

Auntie Olwen  --  port and lemon.

And so we`d meander home through the beautiful, soft snow,

With me pissed as a fart,

At peace with the world

And five years old.

Snooze then,

While my mam - with a small sweet sherry to assist, cooks the dinner.

Then at 2 o`clock, my dad is home.

More presents to open.

His a world globe to educate me.

 I spin it around and around,

Tracing the countries of the world with my fingertip as I daydream of all the adventures I will have,

To be abruptly roused by Mammy shouting , “ It`s ready!”

Then like a swarm of locust we descend to the table, a gargantuan size dinner to eat.

Turkey crisp and succulent,

“Can I have some skin?”

The “best” bit!

No fear of cholesterol here!

Pulling crackers with corny jokes and plastic spinners to whirl,

While paper hats fall over eyes on heads too small to retain them.

Then it`s Xmas pudding,

Steaming for days before, wrapped up in its pudding shroud.

“Watch you don`t swallow the sixpences!”

“Who wants more custard?”

Companionable silence as all eat,

And Christmas afternoon wafts into evening.

Soft snow is still falling outside

And all the world is silent with it`s heavy blanket hush.

“Five minutes, then it`s time for bed!”

Ovaltine mugs of silky warm smoothness,

With Mam making patterned flowers of the dark dregs at the bottom of the cup.

Twisting it this way and that,

Making “petals” appear like magic.

Eyes now heavy with sleep

And mams` voice “Come on then now. Upstairs to gweli!”

I slowly climb the stairs, surrounded by my mothers` love.

“I wish it could be Christmas every day mam.”

“I think you`d get fed up!” 

“I wouldn`t!

  I reely, reeely  wouldn`t you know! “

Jan Wharton    (nee Pughsley)

 December 2024