December 25, 2019
Christmas past, honouring family ancestors
Grandad singing the haunting story of the Mistletoe Bough, a real Father Christmas arriving in real snow, who I much later discovered was my Uncle Bob, and helping dad feed the cattle, throwing hay off the truck while he drove. Silver sixpences in mum’s Christmas pudding and smiles from Gran, laughter from Aunty Dorothy. A surreptitious tenner from Uncle Bunt, a sugar mouse in my Stocking – I honour my family and ancestors who enjoyed Christmas Day, and I know that one day, like me, the little ones now will look back when they are old, think of me, and smile.
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