Imelda McKiernan Memories of Christmas Past

Memories of Christmas Past

My memories of Christmas past are something that will never be erased as long as I live. December the 8th was always regarded as the start of the Christmas season, but there were no shopping trips to Dublin then. I remember being taken down the town after Mass, as it was known as a ‘big shopping day’. We looked in the shop windows adorned with tinsel of all colours; the chemist shop, with lovely boxes of creams and perfume, the newsagents had rows of Christmas cards on paper clips hanging inside the windows and also toys displayed in their window. The town was a wonderland for us country children. I looked at the calendar every day and counted them down.

At last, the day came for us to buy the turkey. My mother took us in the donkey and cart. I remember crossing over the town bridge and seeing all the turkeys and geese and I can still hear the noise they made. Then my mother would go from one farmer to another, haggling about the price: being a widow, she was used to haggling. At last, the purchase was made and the farmer killed the poor turkey by wringing its neck. He kept the turkey while we went with friends of my mother to the pub. No women or children were allowed, so we went into the snug. We had lemonade, while the women had a port wine. Then, the turkey was collected, placed in the cart and we set off for home. On the way, the Christmas list was left into the grocer’s. The order would be delivered. It always had a Christmas candle and a bottle of raspberry cordial as a gift.

Our next task was collecting the holly and ivy. The week before Christmas we would go to a neighbour’s field and there, beside the crab apple tree, was a holly bush, laden with red berries. Even though we had gloves, the prickly leaves would still leave their mark. The next stop was the ruins of an old shed, where the ivy clung to the stones for dear life. We coaxed it off, trying not to break the long stems. We carried our treasure home in the wheelbarrows. On Christmas Eve, we would decorate the Sacred Heart picture, which took pride of place, with the ivy hanging across the top and down the sides. The mantelpiece would have the holly placed on it and also the top of the dresser and the window sash.

I remember the Christmas pudding hanging up in its calico bag from the rafters in the kitchen. We had all played our part in getting it there, stirring it and making wishes. I will never forget the waiting and longing for Santy to arrive. I was hoping that Santy would bring that lovely green