h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

It's December, The Post are asking for Christmas Memories, and Florida Sailor has got off to a great start with A87778462

Inspired by 'First Kiss, Last Kiss, Best Kiss, Worst Kiss' A1053901 I'd like like to write a collaborative entry about Christmases. Will you help?

What's the first Christmas you remember?

What did you do last Christmas?

Which were your best and worst Christmases?

Even if you don't celebrate Christmas you'll still have memories of the time of year when others do...

I'll use the memories in a collaborative entry and there'll be badges all round.

Here's my best/worst/first/last

F110512?thread=8298760

Oh wonderful

My worst Christmas was many years ago, in the 1950s. I was a little kid, and my family drove down to Hartford, Connecticut to spend Christmas with my Uncle and his family. We got into a horrendous snowstorm on the Connecticut turnpike, and were caught in the middle of a chain-reaction accident that affected 70 or 80 cars. There were deaths in that accident. Despite being banged up in the front and rear, our car was road-worthy enough to continue to my uncle's house. When we got there,however, we discovered that the damage to the car's rear -- where our suitcases and Christmas gifts were -- was severe enough that we couldn't get the trunk open. Thus, we had to endure a Christmas without gifts or clean clothes. Ouch! But at least none of us were injured or killed.

I can't decide on a "best" Christmas. We usually used to get together at my parents' home [except for that one trip to my uncle's in Hartford, and a few Christmases in Schenectady when he moved there]. Eventually, when my parents got into their 70s, my brother took over the hosting duties. My brother and sister-in-law are excellent cooks, so there is always wonderful food to eat on Christmas Day. Their living room has a high ceiling, making for enough space for a good-sized tree. My sister-in-law has been collecting ornaments since she was five. She can no longer find room for *all* of them on the tree nowadays, but she does her best. For the last few years, my mother was ailing at her home, so my father stayed with her at Christmas. She went into a nursing home last August, so I expect that I will pick up my father and bring him to my brother's for this year's Christmas celebration.

blimey, that was a huge pile up!

It's weird, I remember a lot of things from when I was really quite small but the first Christmas I remember is the one in 1967 because we had just moved to Detmold in Germany and it snowed. It is the first one I remember and one of the few really white ones. The snow started on my birthday in early December and stayed for a few months. My mum bought a sledge and lashed a laundry basket full of blankets and pillows on the back for my baby brother. There was a party for all the children in the garrison just before christmas and we spent a lot of time making paper chains to decorate our flat. I can't actually remember anything else about it except that everyone was so excited that there was so much snow.

probably one of the best too. I would have been about 8 or 9 and I lived next to the barracks in Windsor where my dad was posted. It was one of the years when the regiment was in Northern Ireland over the holiday, but for some reason my dad came back for Christmas and stayed until mid-January. My mum had invited about 4 of the other wives who were her particular friends and their children to come to ours for Christmas, so that we could just have a big celebration together and make it less stressful for everyone. (it would have been 1972 or 73 so it was a bit scary for the families back then). My dad had been doing a lot of the kitchen stuff, when the doorbell rang and we heard him ask if someone could get it. The mums were all busy so all the kids ran to the hall, flung open the door and there was Father christmas with a big bag full of presents. Later my dad explained that he'd gone out to the shed, pulled on the outfit and was just about to ring the doorbell when a little girl whizzed by on her bike, screeched to a halt, ran back, all round eyed and said "oh thank you Father Christmas, it's the best bike ever". We had a massive spread cooked by all the adults, and all the children were in and out all of the time trying out new bikes, skates etc etc, and later we played a lot of games until the really little ones started falling asleep in inconvenient places so the other families went home.

Worst christmas was the year I left home, I lived in a tiny tiny freezing bedsit and everyone else had gone away. I worked in a pub so the day started ok with a short lunchtime shift, but the afternoon dragged on and on and on with me getting more and more depressed about being on my own. But that was about it. I had the bathroom to myself and had 2 baths that day.

Worst Christmas was probably two years ago. I went home before my dads birthday on the 18th and got more and more miserable as Christmas drew nearer. My mum was treating me like her personal slave and my sister kept arguing with me. I ended up talking to my dad at his work on the day before Christmas eve and I think he had a word with my mum. I escaped on boxing day.

This year will be the first year that I do not have christmas with my parents. Instead s, the mouseling and I shall be having our own celebrations and family and friends can come and visit us. This is mostly because I really don't want to traipse a 2 week old baby all over the place in the middle of December.

Mini

First - I'm not one of those who has a distinct memory of what was when. However we always went to the grandparents each year for Christmas, alternating each year. At my Dad's parents I remember the geometric pattern on the curtains, almost art deco-like, lit in the amber glare of the street light while I tried to contain my excitement and wait for the alarm to go off so I could open my stocking. At my Mum's parents I remember the decorations - the glow in the dark cherubs and icicles that hung from the ceiling light in the living room. The strings of fairy lights, the large swags of tinsel, and most of all the spherical chinese lantern shade that would replace the normal one in the hall-way for Christmas. It had a large face of a jester painted on it - it always reminded me of Timothy Claypole from Rentaghost and I found him reassuringly friendly, though I know my cousins found him creepy.

Last was our usual - down to my parents on Christmas eve, singing from the balcony with the choir at the local church, christmas lunch with my uncle and sister over too, phonecalls from the relly's eleswhere and overseas, the phone being passed around from person to person.

Best - no one sticks out, I enjoy the family ones, there's never been much hassle, but then there's never been the 'it has to be AMAZING' thing, so it's usually quite chilled.

Worst - probably seems trivial considering some peoples, but I was in the 6th form, and had my mock A-levels after Christmas. Art required preparation work to be done over the holiday to provide the background etc for the exam (10 hours over two days in exam conditions creating art is actually harder than it might sound) and I went and got flu over Christmas. Not just a cold, but flu - shakes, fever, chills etc. I ended up drawing the Christmas lights as distorted through the funky 70's glass door between the kitchen and dining room while sweating profusely and shivering as it was about all I could do and sort of fitted with the theme, and when I got back into school, was told I hadn't worked hard enough !!! and how would I possibly pass my A-level if i didn't dedicate myself more. That was when I knew science would be my career, not art

This isn't a create thing just a comment

I remember Christmas roast potatoes, always quite burnt, my Mum does the best roast potatoes generally even if they are bit more crispy than usual, but if they are beyond that for a roast lunch we always say that ok it is 'Christmas roast potatoes' whatever time of year

Now for some reason I thought this was because Mum popped the roast potaotes in before church, and the service always went on bit long, although in my memory this didn't quite sit right because I thought Church was quite early and Cof E bit tardy with time keeping but also didn't keep people to long on Christmas

So asked today,as I happened to be at Granny's for a roast lunch.

No, I was right, nothing to with church, we came back from church Granny would lob the roast potates into aga, every year and we would go to cocktails with family friends, not us obviously children, with the cocktails. Every year they would say yep we'll just have a drink or two, but always be back later than anticipated

I always thought we did that visiting on boxing day, funny how you memories get muddled

Meat would be fine and veg lovely, excellant gravy but potatoes so unusually crispy
My parents, this has to be said, were always good spirits,not like other people's experiences with their parents consuming of alcohol

Although we (the children) weren't so much,because we had to wait until after church, then obviously until after a long visit to friends house, then after meal and all the washing up and any other 'chores' before opening presents, so it would be about 3.30pm and we'd would have been up at 5am

I really remember that anticipation just seeming so long and drawn out. It wasn't all about a want thing, I remember being so excited about seeing my parents opening the presents that I had made for them and seeing my sisters open their presents and seeing what Mum had got for Dad and Dad for Mum.

Hiccup says to me that sometimes she wishes her present opening was stretched for longer but then I say I remember that wait and said as as parent I would never put a time on it for my kids if I had them, if you want to have your own discipline fine, I am not making you open them in the morning!

Anyway crispy roast pototoes is what I really remembered about childhood Christmases and how long it took us to get round to the opening of the presents

er, not really a comment either, still not a create thing, just sharey and I went on a lot



and seasons greetings to you all when the time comes

and

Peanut

Best Christmas: Two years ago - rest of family go off to Disney Land Florida for Christmas...knowing I;m not a fan of Disney do not invite me...I therefore have Xmas at my place...I also have fractured left upper arm from thinking about Victoria Coren's breasts (yes really)...but that is not much of an issue...I get up lazily and basically have a relaxed day having kangaroo steaks and some form of jumpity African deer for dinner and watch my 2 favourite Xmas films: Die Hard 1 and Die Hard 2.

Unfortunately, I have to go and do family stuff this year...I have less interest in Xmas than a flea does about quantum theory.

no come on, that story about fracturing your arm does need telling, just thinking about Vicroria Coren breasts, you can't leave it there

*sitting on edge of seat*

also goes to google Victoria Coren but will make sure I am not sitting on edge of something in case I fall off and fracture something...

Ooooooohhhh, I can.

that's mean you tease!

you could at least write it up in detail for the h2g2 good/bad sex awards or something

oh god now I am thinking about putting that thread for a suggestion on Create

your fault Alfster

No sex was involved and I did not inhale...although depends on whether it was before or after she gave up smoking...

First Christmas – Young and innocent - just a jumble of memories really – Woken in the dark by rustling at the bottom of the bed, turning on the light expecting Santa and finding my sister OPENING MY PRESENTS, learning an important lesson about gluttony by gorging myself on all the chocolate, oranges and sweets in my stocking and my sister’s, being crowded off of my first train set for two days by father, both grandfathers and various uncles, and perhaps the first being woken by noise down stairs and creeping down to find Mum and Dad giggling and playing with the toy farm he had made me.

Best Christmas – Young, silly and in love – a wild party with all our friends, a night of passion and whispered secrets, opening presents together in bed, fun early Christmas dinner with flat mates family, frosty late dinner with girlfriend’s parents before being picked up by my folks, a long walk in the New Forest kicking leaves, jumping in puddles and holding hands, supper at home with family and beloved, a night sleeping downstairs on sofa while girlfriend slept in my bed and parents got up regularly every twenty minutes to “go to the loo” or “get a glass of water” – a consequence of my father’s career in the Navy at a time when all servicemen were traumatized by exposure to graphic films portraying the inevitable dire dripping consequences of pre-marital beastly ghastliness and awful dreadfulness.

Wildest Christmas Young, free and single – I worked as a porter in a Hospital in Sydney where the staff included a total of nine single heterosexual men and over two hundred mostly single frequently available young women, all working on a rotating shift rosters. Two of my workmates shared a bungalow near the Hospital so a week before Christmas we filled the bath with ice and tinnies, kept it filled and invited the nurses to a party that raged on non-stop well into January. On Christmas Eve we had a huge Christmas Dinner with all the trimmings (those on the night shift ate early before going into work) while it was cool enough to eat a large meal, I staggered into work next morning, showered and changed in the porter’s room, before the sister decided I was just sober enough to work and told me I was going to be Santa and hand out presents – believe me a red nylon suit, pillow, wig and fake beard are not suitable attire when its 104 degrees in the shade.

Worst Christmas – Middle aged, stupid and infatuated – In my late thirties I was so wrapped up in my career that it became my whole life and a very (physically) beautiful woman in her mid twenties took an unasked for intense interest in me and entered my lonely life. Stupidly I didn’t realize or at least admit to myself that it was a bit unlikely that somebody who seemed to have everything in common with me would suddenly appear and show such apparent devotion – I found out later she had been hurt in an earlier relationship and had sought out an innocent sap (me) to hurt as a form of revenge on all men. She went away for Christmas and before she went we had a date which ended with a dazzling smile and promise of more in the New Year. I didn’t go home that Christmas – I suspect that secretly I knew if I did my mother and sister would work out what was going on and make me face the truth. On Christmas Eve I went to bed early and had the most frightening dream of my life. It started as a warm glow and she was there, standing that little bit too close as usual, smiling into my eyes – then her expression changed, she turned away and suddenly I found myself alone in the most unbelievable desolate howling emptiness stripped bare of everything – love, youth, innocence and hope. I could not get back to sleep and the feeling stayed with me for days and still occasionally haunts me in my lowest moments.

Thanks for sharing.

My first Christmas. I was born in August, and so I would have been four months old, my mother tells me what it was like. They had been married for 10 years before I was born and had given up celebrating Christmas much. So they were quite surprised when people sent the baby present, my parents just opened them as they arrived and gave them to me right away.

When they wrote thank you letters which arrived BEFORE Christmas my Grandmother gave them an awful telling off for 'not doing it correctly'. And since then they have always made an effort to celebrate Christmas.

Worst Christmas?

Well I did work for five Christmases in a row, and the more experienced I got at looking after sick people, the sicker my patients got. I happen to rather like working Christmas, but I have a strong feeling that I feature in a number of people's worst Christmases.

I remember being about 7 or 8, and rationalising that Santa didn't REALLY come down the chimneys to deliver presents. With a touching faith in the public sector that perhaps hinted at my future career path, I reckoned that the council must organise it.

Last Christmas was OK, we were just recently married so it was nice to have a quiet do at home. Plus we knew R was going into hospital in January so we were taking it easy.

Worst - probably 2009. In fact, we toungue in cheek kept saying it was the "Worst. Christmas. Ever." Half the lights on my tree didn't work, I bought a "bah humbug" decoration for it. But it was just before R and I were having a trial of living apart, so in retrospect he was coping with depression, was very difficult to live with, my daughter and I were counting down the days to January, when we were moving out into our own flat.

Best? Hard to say. Possibly 2005, when I'd just moved back to Norn Irn - I had a real tree that year, we drank champagne while opening the presents, and R gave me a CD which had some of my favourite but less well known carols and Christmas songs on it - I'd mentioned in passing that I liked them, and he'd made the CD for me. But the kids were having difficulties settling into their new schools - even though Harry's rather posh one did lovely concerts with sherry and shortbread afterwards in front of a huge real fire. 2006 was good too - we put a venison casserole into the slow cooker, and were invited to a lock-in at the local pub.

I try to be realistic, there's too much expectation and pressure for everything to be the best ever. So I focus on a few things that are important to me - listening to the Festival of Carols on Christmas Eve, or even going to a service in St Annes cathedral, and giving some money to the Black Santa (the Dean doing his Christmas charity sit-out.) I did have a tradition of buying one new decoration each year, and I love having whatever family members are around helping me hang them, and reminsicing about where we got them. But we're having a really tiny tree this year, (too many chewing dogs around) and both my darlings are in London, so I fear that tradition might not continue.

First Christmas... hmm... I remember being in Pershore, with my mother's mother's side of the family. Endless numbers of them. I remember getting this: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ou75b7gGMfg/TeWXDjpiaMI/AAAAAAAADzA/4R3C8T7LyRk/s1600/K-1-O%2526K-Hydraulic-Excavator-2.jpg . I remember that very clearly. I also got this: http://thumbs2.ebaystatic.com/d/l225/m/mRODbdvcDhV4qj9OsEwp1Lg.jpg . I remember incredibly clearly the image of my great aunt putting her specs on the end of her nose and reading the words "Big pieces for little hands" out loud. I remember seeing a Father Christmas up a ladder near a chimney and thinking it was actually him and that if he fell he'd surely be killed. On reflection, given where he was, he was in fact about three feet tall. I could only see the back of him. I remember being mostly happy. I remember the texture of the carpet in front of my great grandmother's fireplace, I remember the smell of her budgie's cage, and I remember the odd standard lamp in the corner of her sitting room. Odd stuff. I was outside the very same house the day before yesterday. I looks completely different, and I have no idea who lives there now.

Last Christmas I was plastering on a fake smile and pretending everything was fine while my ex-girlfriend's family, twenty or so of them, ate Christmas breakfast in my house because we'd agreed to "do" Christmas for the sake of her kids despite having split up over a month before, and she'd move out in the new year. Funnily enough, we'd done *exactly* the same thing the Christmas before, then wasted 2011 not really trying to salvage things. I mean, *I* thought *I* was trying.

Best Christmas... none spring to mind.

Worst Christmas... after the end of an earlier relationship, dropping in on Christmas day to the house of my ex's former husband. Seeing him, and his new fiance, both of whom I liked and got on well with, and wishing them the best of luck for the new year and the future. Seeing my ex, and exchanging gifts. And seeing her kids, whom I absolutely adored. Sitting with her son on my lap watching Doctor Who because we were the only two in the house who wanted to watch it. Launching her daughter into the air in her new ballet outfit and catching her. Playing with their new Pirates of the Caribbean pirate ship. And having to make the decision that that would be the last time I would see any of them. And going home, and just crying.

I was brought up Jehovah's Witness, so I never did Chrismas as a child. And, contrary to many people's expectations, I never missed it either.

I remember enjoying the Christmas lights in town, and insisting that my dad drove through the town centre, not the side roads, so we'd get to see them. For Christmas itself, though, we went to England. My parents are English, and every year we went back to visit the grandparents in Bedford and in Chatham. We got a quiet ferry, because most people make the opposite trip: there's a lot more people going home to Ireland from England for Christmas than there are making the reverse trip. Christmas Day itself was usually with my dad's parents, in Bedford. Getting up fairly early, and walking down the icy streets to the park to feed the ducks and to play on the rather good children's playground (why are British kids' playgrounds so much better than Irish ones?), with the sound of church bells echoing over the streets. And then we might visit my dad's sister, or some of their other friends in Bedford, and usually have a large meal, often turkey.

We didn't do Christmas, except that we did: no decorations; no tree; but it was a good time of year to visit family, and we kids would get small presents sometimes, of the type you get when you visit your grandparents once or twice a year, and why not have a big meal? And turkeys are in the shops that time of year anyway.

Actually, we'd often have turkey with my maternal grandparents in Chatham too.

The childhood Christmasses tend to meld in my mind, but that's true of many of my childhood memories. I have some very clear memories of specific incidents in my childhood, but often no clear recollection of how old I was at the time.



Despite spending the vast majority of my childhood Christmasses in the UK, I always called the day after "St Stephen's Day", not "Boxing Day". I might have English parents, and a mainly English accent, but I am still Irish!



I'm an atheist now, but I still don't do Christmas, largely because I have no one to do it with. I did keep up the tradition of visiting England over Christmas for longer than anyone else in the family did, and I added in my relatives in Brighton, who do celebrate Christmas. I was never there for Christmas Day itself, but I did get to pull a few crackers. I like my Brighton relatives, and don't see them often enough. I have only one grandparent left now: my mother's mother, and she's not talking to me, because I've left the Witnesses.



The last three Christmases, in fact, I've spent alone. And that's okay. Last year, I was looking after my parents' house because they were in Beijing. They year before, I was looking after my parents' house because they were camel-trekking in Morocco. And the year before that I was looking after their house because they were ... I forget. I think in England. They'll be in England again this year, for Christmas itself, and then are flying out to visit a friend in Mombassa for a couple of weeks.

So I can curl up in their house, turn on the satellite radio, and catch up on BBC Radio 4. And go for long walks in the woods. And not turn on a computer (or, sometimes, phone) for two days.

Best Christmas? Worst Christmas? Meh. I don't keep score. I don't do Christmas.

TRiG.