Well, it starts on Christmas even when Bob the Butcher brings the box a mate...
As usual, he was hanging material, been at it solid since 5:30 this morning. And despite having finished retailing for the day, has a couple more orders to deliver, then family commitments taking him right up to midnight, so he can't even have a drink til then !
I gave him his bag of beer, some freshly made sausage plait, a Santa hat and a cracker to pull with someone.
Good bloke is Bob, never lets anything grind him down.
The other thing that makes it really Christmas, is carols fron Kings on the telly.
I'm not a particularly religious person, but I had a Christian upbringing and I genuinely like Christmas carols and the sentiment they convey.
Some, really do have a strong emotional tug. Once in royal David's city for example. I would be about eight or nine and was chosen to sing the first verse solo at the school carol concert.
I was not a stage struck infant (though I was the king of hearts in Alice in Wonderland when I was ten, the headiness of which has stayed with me ever since).
Back to Christmas nineteen sixty something... I remember I started off well "Once in royal David's city stood a lowly cattle shed..." Then the nerves got me and I dried up.
I was in shreds afterwards, because I let the whole school down, but teachers and parents alike kept coming up to me hugging me and giving me presents. It's then that I discovered that as long as you're prepared to put your metaphoric nuts on the chopping block, if you fuck up you still get the goodies.
Another Christmas childhood memory was of me and one of my pals in the street who was a catholic. Phil Billingsley, who was also a choister at his local church. I remember he and I went carol singing, just the two of us on our estate and made a fortune (well, at least two bob each), as we both had pretty good pre pubescent voices.
I remember more than once, we were invited into people's homes to sing again, so they could hear us proper (this earned us extra money and nice things to eat).
Reason I treasure this memory is that Phil was killed a couple of weeks after he passed his driving test at 17 years old. Not only am I still pretty moved by this, but also how I saw religion help his mum and dad (who doted on him), carry them through this tragedy.
Sadness aside, I remember the many times that Phil and I laughed til we were almost sick. Like the time we were speeding on a home made kart and hit a rock which threw us all over the shop. We got over our scraped knees and elbows, but I was really upset cos I lost my penny arrow (a chewy toffee thing).
I thought Phil was going to expire, he laughed so hard.
I also remember being "allowed" to watch him take part in a communion at St, Mary's in Bilston, I had to sit at the back of the church away from God, but the service was fascinating to me.
If I have to be honest, I think I prefer Christmas eve to the actual day, because it brings back all these memories and although Phil is no longer with us, the memories of his friendship are so warm.
Sad thing is, I can't sing for toffee these days, not even a penny arrow !
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