| The Warky Lg 1 Report: Happy Christmas (definitely Home) 11:42 - Dec 20 with 898 views | Warkystache |
The ghosts of Christmases past came floating down the Stour last week. My early morning constitutionals, through the damp and the chill, shrouded by mists, wet of sock and trouser-bottom, marching on through the sound of raindrops on the hood of my cagoule (to recapture this experience yourself, walk a few times round your garden drumming your fingertips on the top of your head). The illicit couples who spring apart at the sound of my approach. The dogged dog walkers, calling to unseen pets away rummaging in dank woods. The people who purportedly walk for pleasure dressed like a cross between a regency buck and a condom.
This is Christmas for me. Yeah, so's wrapping the presents whilst listening to Carols from Kings on the telly on Christmas Eve, and sweet sherry in schooners with a home-made mince pie which is more crust than mincemeat, and old Bond movies whilst elderly relatives snore in chairs, their paper hats festooned over one eye, their top plates descending by infinite degrees to their chin. The washing up after the Christmas luncheon. The binning of the uneaten sprouts and carrots. The sneaked, illicit tots of dad's navy rum with a drop of Schweppes blackcurrant in it. The game of cards for tuppences, the squiffy but light-hearted accusations of cheating, the early evening cold meat sarnies and leaden lumps of cold Christmas pud in custard, the opening of that bottle of Liebfraumilch a canny and miserly elder relative bought for two quid 'to go with the dinner', the wrinkling nose of disgust at the sweetness of it.
As a kid, we went for walks a lot at Christmas, me and my dad. It was a great excuse for a breather from inconsequential chatter about Aunt's hysterectomy op or a cousin's undeserved good luck. We usually went down to the Stour or on the beach at Frinton, or just round the neighbourhood, depending on how much he'd drunk by the time we fancied it. I particularly remember the Stour walks, the frost on the ground, the odd person out walking a grizzled mutt. The swans gliding over on the still water, looking for grub. We gave them the rest of the mince pies one year. I think it was the year my nan made them and they brought on indigestion symptoms.
Sometimes we'd find a pub still open and he'd buy me a bitter shandy and we'd sit in the bay window on a church pew and exhale contentedly. The landlord, all Pringle jumper and Farahs and paper crown and clunky gold bracelet and Kouros fumes, would join us in a pint of best in a silver tankard and then we'd go back home in time for the Queen's Speech, a game of Monopoly or Frustration, dinner, Grandad's second world war stories, then later, Grandad's ghost stories, accompanied by Nan's (she once visited Borley Rectory in the early thirties. It sounds like it has the makings of a good story, but in fact, nothing actually happened. She 'just felt it').
Alas, they're dead now, my grandparents. Their stories went with them. I've shared a few of Grandad's on here in the past, but they were numerous and, I'm ashamed to say, I've forgotten some of them. He was the seventh child of nine, back in the days when it seems the only light entertainment available was shagging the wife.
Back to the present day and, as I prepare for a Christmas Eve with the Terries, I'm reminded of the Christmases past. Like Scrooge, they are tinged with the sort of romantic regret that all of us get when we remember. I never asked them to tell me more, my grandparents. Their greatest Christmas gift wasn't the messy day-to-day trivialities; the surreptitious farting after dinner, the hand-knitted pressies, the accompaniment of the big Christmas day film with mutterings of 'bleedin' load of old toot this is' and common-sense appraisals of the plot. No, it was their memories. Alas, I disregarded them.
Tel feels the same, although regret isn't a word or an action in his vocabulary. We haven't met this week, not had a chance. He had a potentially illegal visit from Tony, Sandy and the kids on Friday. The present exchange. "Forchoonatly the missus'd wrapped 'em" he told me on the phone afterwards. He was unavailable for yesterday evening as was I, so no curries or chinese. I was meeting friends in Colchester for drinks and nibbles at their new home. He still had Tony and his family. They had fish'n'chips last night.
"Be round yours at two on Fursdy so be ready" he said at our brief telephone parting. I'm working up to Wednesday, at home, on the laptop. I've got the pressies and the drinks and the odds and sods I'm taking with me. I've ordered the taxi to take me home at twelve midnight on Xmas Eve. "Missin' midnight mass then?" said Tel sounding surprised. Yes. Our local church isn't having one this year.
So Merry Christmas one and all. I'll be back to report on Christmas Day afternoon. The Warky Report live from my parents' home, sans relatives. It'll just be the Terry Xmas Eve experience if that's OK? He says he's ready for a "strange Chrissmuss Eve like". Hopefully, it'll be just like old times......
Warky - December 2020. |  |
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| The Warky Lg 1 Report: Happy Christmas (definitely Home) on 12:03 - Dec 20 with 849 views | 66notout |
Cheers Warky, the perfect cliffhanger. Can't wait to hear how it went round at the Terries. |  | | |
| The Warky Lg 1 Report: Happy Christmas (definitely Home) on 12:45 - Dec 20 with 796 views | Ace_High1 |
This is the highlight of my Christmas now, looking forward to the reports from Xmas Eve and the day.
Have a good, merry one Warkers. |  | | |
| The Warky Lg 1 Report: Happy Christmas (definitely Home) on 05:38 - Dec 21 with 586 views | witchdoctor |
nice one ..as per...have a great time mate..👠|  | | |
| The Warky Lg 1 Report: Happy Christmas (definitely Home) on 07:16 - Dec 21 with 558 views | Steve_M |
Happy Christmas Warkers.
Paragraphs two and three capture something that's nice about Christmas, a chance to reminisce about those gone by. That seeing family and watching football remain the best things about it. Well, they do most years anyway. |  |
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| The Warky Lg 1 Report: Happy Christmas (definitely Home) on 07:46 - Dec 21 with 545 views | TractorWood |
Great. Agree on the Stour, it has this ethereal quietness and beauty. Was cycling around it yesterday morning. It gets you out of the saddle too for some of those punchy bits. |  |
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