Christmas is a magical time, especially for young children. We were privileged as my parents made sure that the festive season was a wonderful time for brother and me. And so, the anticipation mounted in the weeks running up to Christmas Eve. I have many fond memories of us both rustling around the Christmas tree getting excited for Santa’s imminent visit; how illicit to prod, poke and shake the gifts and how we giggled in delight when, pushing the paper close to the package we managed to decipher clues as to the content of the package! I have vivid and cherished memories of the scent of the first Satsuma of the season. Browsing the TV and Radio Times – (two long forgotten UK publications which scheduled all the Xmas viewings with reviews) – and planning our holiday viewings. Lazy afternoons with sweets and treats watching charmingly innocent and corny Christmas films. Ferrying the dropped pine needles, in Dinky toy dumper trucks, across the mustard coloured embossed carpet which chaffed my knees. Then Auntie Olive...
