My childhood memories of Christmas center not so much on Christmas Day but on Boxing Day (Dec 26th).... I've read of an old Southern (USA) tradition of passing and re-passing friends and neighbours on a Sunday stroll around town; on Boxing Day we drove to the East End of London where we visited and re-visited with family, running into others on our visiting list but still having to visit them in their own homes later in the day! Laughter, music, lights, decorations, chatter, and presents at every stop. Every home filled to bursting with family and ‘family’ … and food! Food! Italians have nothing on Anglo-Indians when it comes to food… You will eat! You MUST eat! “I know you’ll have something a little later at [x’s] home, but you’re here now, try just a little of this, try, eat!” Talk about feeding the 5000! Aunty Mary’s biryani was the best - and I never knew it to run out! And how I miss my Nan’s cutlets!
In the course of the day we might run into cousins and ‘cousins’ and both aunties and uncles and ‘aunties and uncles’ three or more times! My father liked peace, quiet, and solitude – but prized family above all else. On the drive home, after the hectic day, he would say he felt he had “maggots inside his head,” but he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Neither would I.
We'd start at the Becks' which was bedlam - in the nicest way - with more people than a fire dept would consider safe, music piped throughout the house, and Chris and his band playing in the basement. Then the round of Ingram visits, picking up presents along the way .... My favourite Christmas present, every year, for many years - being allowed to pick out one of Uncle Denny's tie clips to keep as a hair clip. Then home, with detours to see the Oxford/Regent/Bond street lights.
I look back in gratitude (and occasionally awe) to those who populate those Boxing Day memories, like uncle Bobby, Uncle Lawrence, Aunty Gloria and, of course, my wonderful amazing Nan and my father. Both sadly missed.
