Memories of a Boyhood Christmas

I stepped down from the train. Snow was falling thickly. Yes it was going to be a white Christmas – just like the ones we used to know. In fact I’d been dreaming of a white Christmas with every card I’d written, and now my dream was to come true

Wilkins was waiting for me with the one-horse open sleigh, and it was such fun to ride across the fields, dashing through the snow, listening to the sleigh bells jingling. A veritable winter wonderland

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I hope there are hot chestnuts roasting on an open fire – I said to Wilkins.

Oh, yes, master George, and the hall is decked with boughs of holly.

Tra la la la la – I enthused. For tis the season to be jolly.

Tra la la la la – responded Wilkins.

And I suppose mother will have a glass of hot toddy ready? For Jack Frost has been nipping at my toes.

Cook will serve the hot toddy master George; your mother is out in the village taking food to the poor of the parish.

But surely there are no poor people these days? I queried.

Immigrants! Sniffed Wilkins, disapprovingly.

Come, Wilkins, I reproached  – Good will toward men.

Tra la la la la, replied Wilkins, rather unenthusiastically.

Yes, we are going to have a very merry Christmas, Wilkins. We’ll make the Yuletide bright, very soon our troubles will be out of sight.

Wilkins perked up – Yes, and old friends who are dear to us, will be near to us once more.

That reminds me, I said, I hope cousin Elsie will be coming for Christmas? For twas in in the Springtime, when last we met. When birds did sing, hey ding a ding a ding.

Hey ding a ding indeed: said Wilkins: Cousin Elsie has already arrived – and seems to have put on weight since her last visit.

She’ll have to go easy on the plum pud, eh Wilkins: I joshed

I fear she will have to go easy on everything, master George: vouchsafed the old coachman: considering the somewhat delicate condition in which she finds herself.

Good Lord, Wilkins: I expostulated: you don’t mean she’s…

Seven months I would say: nodded Wilkins, sagely

I was about to ask him to slow down as I was experiencing one of my giddy spells, but then we rounded a bend and the house came in sight.

When we arrived I quickly downed two large glasses of Cook’s hot toddy. How she gets away with making that stuff without a licence I shall never know. Then, fortified somewhat, I went to talk with father; only to be informed by Mrs Browning that he would not be here for Christmas; the Foreign Office having sent him on a fact-finding tour of Thailand. I was crestfallen, but at the same time proud to have a father whose duties to his country came before his own pleasures

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I glanced through the window; although almost dark, the curtains had not been drawn, and I could see that the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even. And I could just make out a figure, bent double with with a sack on his back, trudging through the snow. 

I called Mrs B to come and stand by me: If you know please tell me - Yonder fellow, who is he? I. And what is he doing on our land.

Sir, he is a goodly man, gathering winter fuel, replied the housekeeper.

An immigrant, more like, I retorted. And then, remembering this was the season for goodwill toward one’s fellow man I added: Then we shall not charge him for the logs he collects. Get Wilkins to go out and wish him a Merry Christmas.

Just then mother came in, her face flushed from the cold weather, though she had a merry twinkle in her eye. Behind her stood a tall stranger with a beard and a brooding face.

George, this is Borris, she said. He comes from a far off land called Uzbekistan, to seek gainful employment in our country. Unfortunately he does not speak the language so I have offered to give him English lessons. He will be staying with us over Christmas. Won’t that be fun? He can be a chum for you – that is when I am not giving him lessons.

A tear came unbidden into my eye, as I realised how lucky I was to have a mother who was prepared to give unstintingly of her time and hospitality a complete stranger.

And yes, it would be fun to have a chum. I could teach him to play Monopoly. Yes, this was going to a great Christmas.  

Then I remembered Elsie and I wondered if I should speak to mother. But she had gone upstairs to show Borris his bedroom.

So I went into the kitchen in search of Cook and her hot toddy. Cook is such a jolly lady and, clasping me to her ample bosom, she gave me a big kiss – which quite took my breath away. In fact she was still kissing me when Elsie waddled into the kitchen. Cook let me go, wiping a trace of lipstick from my face with the hem of her pinny.

Could we have a word, George? Said Elsie – in private.

Certainly, I replied – when I had got my breath back. I followed her into the drawing room, a strange sensation in my stomach (probably the hot toddy). Yes, this was going to be a real family Christmas.