I remember Christmas at Grandma’s.
The decorations were old school. Crepe-paper thin ceiling hangers that expanded out, pinned from the corners to the central light. Pieces of wool pinned along the walls in sagging lines from which to suspend all the cards she would receive from friends around the world. A lifetime of friendships, many lines of wool.
The tree would be small and white. The old record player moved so that its home could now be used as a base for the tree.
The Christmas cake that was started just after the summer ended. Needing time to mature. Iced nearer to Christmas ready to be eaten with cheese.
The decoration boxes lived on top of the wardrobe. Stared at all year round and brought down but only once.
Memories and emotions of Christmases past. A glass or two of Baileys by the gas fire playing gin rummy or knock-out twist.
Merry Christmas Grandma.