This photo was taken in the back room at Princess Road. From the pile on the plates, I think it’s fair to assume that mum has always cooked delicious Christmas meals.
I was a faddy eater. I’d pick over the tasty morsels and often leave the table with an empty belly. But looking at that plate I hope I did it justice.
The glasses were Hock glasses; each had a different coloured stem. I’m surprised I have wine in mine, perhaps it’s not really? On closer inspection I can see there’s a can of soft drink lurking, so that’s probably my tipple of the day.
Candles were obviously the favoured form of lighting – although I’m not quite sure why we needed so many on such a small table.
The pictures behind me have long since gone, but I can still remember them well. Parts of the picture were actually made from bark and dried moss – it had real texture. Who knows where the views are? We’d certainly never been abroad – let alone to anywhere like that.
Dad’s not as slim as he once was and he has a lot less hair too – but we’re still together at Christmas – some things never change!
Christmases were always fun for us kids. We’d wake to find presents on our beds, at least until my grandparents stayed. Granddad was determined to photograph us opening our parcels and every time he heard a noise he’d rush upstairs to find dad waiting impatiently for us to fall asleep.
After that year Father Christmas delivered to the front lounge, locking the door so that we had to wait till after breakfast.
I think the photo must have been taken by my sister, Clare. Poor mum's been chopped off but at least her glass of wine is intact.
Incidentally, that blue jug is still in use!