O Woe Is Me...Or...Having A Peculiar Mother!!

The tree went up on Christmas Eve...then Mother had it down again the day after St Stephens...she wasn't one for tradition wasn't Mother...

Our presents were on the table beside our porridge bowls...small neat heaps that I looked at longingly hoping to see one which seemed to be a book...but we needed to wait for Father coming in from milking before we could open them...

There'd be a jigsaw each...a book each...a packet of colouring pencils and colouring book and something to wear, one year I had a new nightdress and my brother pyjamas. I was so cross because my brothers pyjamas were shop bought and Mother had made my nightie...not that I'd ever have dared to say anything...might have kicked his ankles under the table ...as though it was his fault...

I never received Birthdays cards nor Birthday presents and Mother had fallen out with all the relatives, so if they had sent anything we'd not have heard about it...she'd wait until we were sitting down for dinner and then announce...as though for the first time ever...that the Christmas I was born was the most miserable she and Father had ever had...she, because she was birthing me and Father, because he had to have two boiled eggs for the dinner...

Then we'd eat roasted chicken and all the trimmings.

Father went outside to feed the animals and do the evenings milking...Mother put her feet up in the sitting room and my brother and would retreat to our bedrooms to read our new books...

Tea time was incredibly rich and heavy cake...trifle...and bread and butter.

Then we went to bed.