With us, Mother plus friend and children plus
friends, we'd be ten for Christmas. It might well have been more but due to
limitations (builders, plumbers, plasterer and unfinished kitchen) we stopped
there.
Our jolly boys, the builders, moved in to No.
2 shortly after we'd stacked the final suitcase; and promptly took over the
kitchen. We subsequently operated from the extension bedroom, which for reasons
unknown housed a stainless-steel sink and draining-board. The previous owner,
in reply to my puzzled 'Oh. A sink. And draining-board?' had simply replied 'I always feel it's rather useful to have a
sink in a bedroom, don't you ?..'And at that time it suited us well as with a
small kitchen table, the chairs and the elderly gas cooker 'left' in the
original kitchen and soon re-sited, we
were able to muddle along until
downstairs was workable.
November-and with energy and staying power in
short supply, having promised ourselves to 'Make up for it next year,' our
25th wedding anniversary was celebrated
quietly, No party - just a meal for two and a trip to the theatre : the words
'Harvest Supper' strike a limited chord ...obviously not very memorable. But
what a hurdle...
Christmas '81 promised to be white, the first
spread of pristine, snowy loveliness appearing overnight, sometime in late
November. Yesterday's grassy rectangle, as yet unmarked bar a few bird tracks,
now sparkled brilliantly in the rays of bright morning sun streaming through
the branches of the tall Plane trees,
apparently one of the few arboreal specimens sufficiently hardy to survive the
pollutants of the Industrial Revolution. In a rare moment of inactivity, I
stood gazing through our grimy study window, speculating the future.
Admiration for the Christmas card vision however, rapidly disappeared as, despite the delights of a super-efficient
central heating system, the increasing snowfalls led to more and more
inconvenience. The builders were - well
builders - and as is their wont, liable to vanishfor hours 'For supplies' leaving, if I was lucky, one lone worker
(always 'I' as G., relishing his new job,disappeared promptly at 8:30am to his
palatial office at the Tower (what I wouldn't have given, then, for an office).
But by week 3, desperate for a workable kitchen for Christmas, my ultimatum
finally sank in. 'No worker leaves this house accompanied or all teas, coffees,
bacon butties, or Friday bottle of vino will cease .OK?...' In reality they
were good boys and fun, but the kitchen and downstairs loo had to be
operational by Christmas and the present arrangement, useful though it was at
the time, replaced.
With various rooms re-carpeted, our remaining
boxes and furniture appeared on 18th December at 7pm, delivered by two large
vans from the Brighton repository, both vehicles having broken down en route,
along with one of the van heaters. The shivering, but stoic crew, thawed out
with hot soup, had gratefully accepted our offers of a hand with the unloading
and two hours later were back on the road. They'd done a great job, never once
complaining when G. returned several items 'For the next house auction' with a
puzzled
'Why on earth did we store this?' Amongst the
returns were four lawn mowers...Four mowers. To this day, one of life's little
mysteries
With the certainty increasing by the hour,
that our lives were fast approaching their end, No.2 gradually took on one of
its own, lending itself to the red bows and mass of greenery I'd thrown up
everywhere. By 22 December, G's birthday, having dressed the tree, we wandered
off to celebrate in a friendly local restaurant, joined by Dom and Charlotte,
now working in London and Simon, further afield in Brighton where he beavered
for a publisher. The festivities loomed and in less than forty-eight hours
there would be ten of us... Short of turning
into the Christmas fairy, I'd no idea how - or indeed if - it would all
gel. But with chimneys swept and the thermostats lowered, we lit our first real
fire, switched on the tree lights and after a king-sized fish-pie in the
as-yet-undecorated-but-heaped-with-candles dining-room, managed to make the Tower by 11:30 for the
first of many moving and soothing Christmas Eve midnight services.
from SINGING TO THE GOLDFISH
Get your copy HERE
No comments:
Post a Comment