Christmas by Glenys Ugarte

Just a couple of things I remember at Christmas as a child. I have always loved the weeks running up to Christmas, and remember one particular.

Val, Ian and I went on my mum’s works trip to the pantomime, my older brother and sisters, Russell, Brenda and Sue must have been too old or didn’t want to go so Val was put in charge of looking after us. I was only about 5 years old when we go off to our coach. I saw masses and masses of coaches all lined up dropping hundreds of kids off from all over England and Wales.

Once in the Panto, we had loads of sweets and prizes it was so much fun we really enjoyed ourselves.

Home time Val made a tiny little mistake and put us on the wrong coach. We sat on a coach full of strange kids with funny accents and soon Val realised we were on the wrong coach. Instead of heading home to Llanrumney, we were on mystery of the valleys.

The coach driver stopped and called the police told them we were on the wrong coach, the three of us ended up in the back of a police car, mum was on the doorstep waiting and worrying because we were not on the coach “trust Val”. She said “she knew it all”, mum thanked the police she wasn’t impressed with us though. As always, I got away with it because I was so young.

I loved dads works Christmas Party, every year we’d go and had an awesome time, food, games and present from Father Christmas, Oh come on stay with me I was only 5 years old. Val and Ian grew too old for the party and eventually I was going to the party with my three lovely nieces (Brenda’s girls), Annemarie, Eleanor and Elaine. Oh, wish those days were back.

Christmas Eve, at home, we would take delivery of a Turkey from Mr Fosters, a farmer Dad would help from time to time. He would drop the bird off still with the feathers on and Dad and Mr Foster would head to the pub for a few drinks leaving the plucking of the bird to the woman of the house. Mum had no problem plucking the bird and I liked to help then washed and stuff it would go into the oven to cook over night. All the veg was than prepared ready for the big day.

I remember once many years ago being sent to bed one Christmas Eve waking up about 4am to see if Father Christmas had come. I had my stocking full of goods on my bed so he had been. Creeping downstairs to what else was under the tree it was not Father Christmas I surprised, but my dad finishing painting the living room door and was quickly shooed back to bed. Once we got up presents was given and dad would go to the pub for a pint while mum was making dinner. So much fun...

Over the last couple of years, we’ve had our difficulties. The house has finally been adapted downstairs and I’m able to get round the ground floor in the wheelchair. Simon and David occupy the upstairs there own bachelor pad. We are all well James has his own place and is doing ok. Simon is still working for the Royal Mail and David is working in Ikea. We plan this year to have a nice quiet Christmas. Well boys are now men so it doesn’t seem the same as when they were little...