Christmas Past 2011, 6

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12.

I wake, my eyes still dim from sleep. The first thing I see is my breath rising slowly from my mouth. I pull my covers up a little higher. It is freezing. I can see frost on the window glistening, small shapes from the sunlight streaming in. 

I see slight flakes of snow falling from the sky like the sugar you put on cakes. I feel a ping of delight move quickly through my whole body. I smile. It's Christmas.

I sit up and feel the cold hit me properly once the warmth and safety of the sheets have fallen off my body, no longer protecting me from the harsh winter cold. I step out of bed and begin to smile. I think about what the day has to offer - cheer, merriment, a fantastic Christmas turkey stuffed to the brim, gravy sliding off it, a platter of roast potatoes. My mouth begins to water.  Then I think of the most obvious thing that comes to any child's thoughts at this time: presents! I feel excitement gorw as I think about tearing into the delicately wrapped boxes of pure joy. I say out loud to myself "This is going to be a good day." 

 
13.
One of the most memorable Christmases of my life was in 2004. I was at the coast in Kenya with friends for the holiday. Our house was right on the beach; the sound of waves crashing at night was deafening. Christmas Day itself was relatively normal. I don't remember any details from it.


It was the day after, Boxing Day, that was incredibly eventful. We were all sitting around the breakfast table when my Mum's friend got a text. It was from his friend in Sri Lanka. It read: There is a 200-ft tsunami coming yr way at 300 ks per hour. Get to high ground. This should have scattered us in panic, but I think the surreal nature of it caused us to stay sitting, and start a conversation on the topic "If you had to choose three things to pick up and run with from the tsunami, what would they be?" There were plenty of silly answers, including my brother's: "I'd take a fridge that is always full of food. And my stocking." 


Eventually, one of the adults brought us back to reality by saying, "I think we's better get a move on, then." We did, and grabbed more sensible items such as passports and money. We got into three cars and drove up to the hills, telling everyone we passed to get their families and do the same. 


We got to the top of a ridge and sat there for about half an hour with binoculars aimed at the seashore, trying to spy the incoming tidal wave. For some mad reason, then we decided we didn't want to miss it, and proceeded to drive right back down to our house. This was certainly not the most intelligent thing to do, and could have earned us all Darwin Awards.


We waited until the end of the day in expectation, but the wave never came. Later, it turned out that the tsunami had actually hit us during our pre-breakfast swim, but the reef out at sea had prevented it from making any impact. 

I support you could say we were just incredibly lucky.

Christmas Past 2011, 5

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 9.

My memory of Christmas is when my younger cousin, Aidan, said that he wanted to leave a mince pie and a glasis boy was tws of milk out for Santa Claus. Bear in mind that this boy was twelve. Twleve. I giggled nervously and hoped that he was just joking. I turned around to see him looking at me inquisitively, wondering why I was laughing. I said to him sceptically, "Aid, you do know Santa's not real, yeah?"

At that moment, Aidan's face drained of all colour, his eyes filled with tears and his shoulders slumped forward as though he was carrying a heavy schoolbag, and he ran out of the room crying so hard. He sounded as though he was in real pain. The guilt I felt may have been the worst feeling I've had in my life.

10.

The drawing room. The place where it all happens, the room that has that Christmas smell,'t

the room that is Christmas.

I can't describe that smell. That foresty smell you get from the tree. The smell of burning logs, the smell of crisp paper. And the strong smell of my Granny's Chanel perfume.

The sound of the crackling sparks on the fire. The sound of my grandparents talking to Mum about something she has no interest in. The sound of my Dad hysterically laughing about something, having had a few too many glasses of wine. The sound of my brother blabbering on about the latest rugby match, and the sound of my sisters gossiping about celebrities. The sound of paper being torn in desperation to see what surprises await them. The sound of my dogs playing with each other and their claws scraping on the carpet.

This is Christmas to me.

11.

Old toys you once craved

Now lie still in the attic,

White dolls, grinning faces,

Matte with dust.

Boxes of lights

Green, white, now left for nothing,

Not used since times past.

Get them out if you must

And hang them downstairs

So the neighbours will think that

This year, you'll pretend that

This Christmas

You'll care.

Christmas Past 2011, 4

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Many thanks to @irasocol for this contribution:-

8.
I'll never forget when I learned that Santa Claus wasn't real. I was in the fourth grade eating lunch when a classmate stated quite emphatically that there was no such thing as Santa. He wasn't real. It was just a man dressed in a Santa's suit. I wasn't especially fond of this red-haired girl, so using my indignant fourth-grade voice, I spouted back that she was wrong because last year Santa walked by our house on Christmas morning. She continued to insist that it was someone dressed in a Santa costume When I demanded to know who put our presents under the tree, she promptly informed me that our parents did.

As I walked home from school, I thought about what she told me and knew I could find the truth about Santa from my mother. I knew that she would definitely agree with me. However,  after listening to her answer, I realized  that Christmas would never be the same for me. It lost a little bit of magic and the hardest part was I had to pretend he was real because I had two younger brothers!
 

I'm just glad the magic lasted until the fourth grade.

Christmas Past 2011, 3

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7. 
I remember the snowfall. Particularly the depth, and wondering if it was possible for anything to keep growing underneath the frosty white blanket. The last Christmas to be spent with her. I remember the fire blazing and the early darkness of winter days. I remember her house on top of a hill, and the heart of it spilling onto the frosty lake a few metres below.

She reminds me of more winters and Christmas and memories, and how carols and lights and the beautiful season always ignite your soul.

8.

The night before Christmas in the year 2002. I woke up in the middle of the night. Finding it hard to sleep because of the excitements about presents. Since I was up I went to check the tree to see if there were any presents. But there were none. So I went to my parents' bedroom. As I opened the door I could hear paper crumpling and people talking. I opened the door and there I saw my parents wrapping presens. We stood standing for seconds.

And I just left.

Christmas Past 2011, 2

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4.

Last Christmas I didn't have 'Christmas'... We were snowed in for a week and a half leading up to the day, so my Dad was unable to get the turkey. My brother and I robbed a tree from a nearby plantation, and not a single present was exchanged. And spaghetti bolognese followed by icecream replaced Christmas dinner. And although we missed out usual Christmas traditions, like going to church and then on to my grandparents' house, the day still felt special. Just in a different way.

5.

Glimmering, twinkling, rocking, candles set the centrepiece like little stars. Eggs, little obscure moons, sit sprinked with sweet herbs. Green, ugly, peeling sprouts lie like monsters within the shimmering bowl. Hot, steaming, brown gravy is at the top of the table, its smell intense, rich, warm and loving. The vegetables lies upon their magnificent platter, an array of wonderful colours - oranges, reds, yellows, browns. All warming, all rich.

The most fantastic, colossal beast of a bird sits stuffed, golden brown, crisp, juicy, wonderful. It lies on its golden platter, lemons where its head would have been. Succulent rivers of juice ooze from its flesh. Oh, what a magnificent feast this is!

6.

It's not always been pleasant: the bitter and touch Geordie weather and people saw to that. I remember our car got broken into in the town centre while my mother did the Christmas shopping with me in tow. It was snowing at the time, so it was unlikely we could drive with smashed windows, and being the 24th of December it was even more unlikely that we could find anyone to fix them. However, your luck doesn't stay sour for ever, and we managed to find a mechanic, and we were on our way.

I think back now and realise why the smash and grab must have taken place. My mother had left a wrapped brown parcel in the footwell of the passenger seat. The area we were parked in wasn't the nicest either, so when this man saw a brown parcel in a type of car normally used by drug dealers, his heart must have leapt. I only wish I could have seen his face when he opened the parcel to find knitted baby clothes.

Christmas Past 2011 1

Last Friday we had our third Everybody Writes day on the theme 'Christmas Past': every pupil in the school wrote for 10/15 minutes on this theme, mostly anonymously. Over the next week we'll be posting some of these. They could be by anyone from VI formers to Primary.

Click here if you'd like to join in...

1.

There are certain smells I can only associate with Christmas, just as there are a few emotions that are only shown at Christmas. That happens at my house every year when I kiss my granny's cheek and take her coat. This particular smell fills in the house, and everywhere you go you know Granny's here.

We turn on the Christmas tree lights and the candles, and we're all ready to begin. The fireplace is lit and all of us sit around it. I love to observe my family. I look at them and all I can see are smiles and laughs. All the rest that seems to be present throughout the rest of the year is forgotten on Christmas Day, and I wonder why don't we all make this effort for the rest of the days of the year?

2.

Our Christmas tree is always massive. It reaches the ceiling in our hall. It isn't colour-coded or anything like that, but instead is full of things we have collected through the years. We have the star made out of uncooked pasta that my sister made when she was in primary school, the bauble that my brother got for his christening with his name on it, and loads of different-coloured tinsel and lights.

To be honest it looks like a bit of a shambles, but that is why I love it. My favourite thing is what goes on top: when my parents had no money, my Dad made a Santa  out of a can, with red fabric for his clothes and cotton wool for his beard with two eyes drawn in black marker. The reason I like it so much is because of the way my parents look at each other every year when it is taken out of the decorations box.

3.

The room filled with laughing children and gossiping adults. The black sooty fireshield guarding the crackling fire going up the chimney. The carpet beside burnt with black stains from floating ashes. The large Christmas tree taking up one end of the room with an angel on top with its head touching the ceiling. The fairy lights wrapped around the tree glowing and shining on the hanging decorations. Beneath the tree are all of the gifts - wrapped in polka dots, stripes, with Santas or in plain colours, each tied neatly with a ribbon and a bow. Outside the decorated windows is the snowman that was built by the neighbourhood kids earlier today. But he is slowly shrinking due to the sunlight's warmth, his carrot-nose falling off, bending down beside his raisin mouth. The dogs in the kitchen glare up at the freshly-cooked and seasoned turkey sitting on the counter-top. Even from the hallway, you can smell the Yorkshire pudding, swimming with gravy and peas.

Christmas Past in the Summer

Pictured above, some of the 'Christmas Past' pieces from our Everybody Writes day last December in the Library (as per 2009, too), currently being displayed to bring back memories of a chillier time.

These pieces of writing (from both years) will also feature in our new book, out later this term.

Christmas Past 2009

Above, a Wordle made out of the full texts of our recent series about 'Christmas Past', as a result of last December's 'Everybody Writes' Day. As we did last year, some of these will shortly be posted around the Library (click here for a slide-show).

(image created through www.wordle.net)

Christmas Past 2009, 22

The last of this year's selection from our Everybody Writes Day, during which every pupil (and some teachers) in the school wrote about the theme 'Christmas Past'. Happy Christmas to all...

That evening, the little country railway station was deserted, and I was the only passenger to leave the train, stepping gingerly onto the icy platform with my bag. My father was waiting in his car in the all-enveloping fog, and he drove us slowly and very carefully through the white frozen landscape. It hadn't snowed: the whiteness came from night after night of freezing frost. The headlights were dipped, the beams hitting the fog only a few feet away, and we moved along the deserted road, cocooned in the car, towards home.

In the morning, I opened the curtains to a bright blue sky. In the garden, the branches on the trees were heaped inches high with frost, crusty piles of sugar, sugar, sugar.

Christmas Past 2009, 21

It was Christmas Eve, and a cold bitter winter's night. We had just arrived back from Mass, and sprinted inside to turn on the RTE news. They confirmed it: Santa Claus was definitely coming and would be arriving in Ireland in approximately two hours.

After we had gotten everything ready for Santa Claus, I remember my mother coming out with three presents - one for me and one for each of my two brothers. Within a few seconds the red and white wrapping paper had been ripped open.

Inside the wrapping paper lay a beautiful pair of real silk pyjamas. They were gold and they were covered in small blue and white flowers. I absolutely loved them. I ran upstairs to put them on, and suddenly I could hear my father calling me to come downstairs.

I got down as fast as I could, to find my father standing at the window. 'Look, it's snowing.' I was overwhelmed by joy.

My brothers and I ran outside and gazed as the small white snowflakes that fell from the black sky stuck to the ground.

My father came out afterwards and I ran to him and jumped up into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his broad body and said, 'I love you, Daddy' and he said 'I love you too.'

Christmas Past 2009, 20

A Baby in a Manger

A frosty morning
A brace of pheasants
A laurel wreath
A holly tree

A chocolate calendar
A wooden angel
A stream of lights
A crispy turkey

A swollen stocking
A fiery pudding
A morning hunt
A smoking chimney

A nativity play
A partridge in a pear-tree
A baby in a manger
A life sacrificed for me.

Christmas Past 2009, 19

We had just finished Christmas dinner when it happened. The first person to notice it was my younger brother. I was too busy unwrapping my presents to notice him pressing his nose flat on the large window in the living-room. My parents didn't notice either. They were clearing the table and looking after my granny, making sure that she was comfortable on the sofa. She didn't notice it either: she was too busy watching me playing with my new toys.

After a while I noticed my brother had left all his presents behind, which was definitely unusual. I looked at him, still standing there, his breath fogging the glass as he stared outside. What was he looking at? What could be more interesting than his presents? Some were still lying untouched under the Christmas tree.

I moved to the window to discover what was out there.

At first I saw nothing. I asked my brother what it was, but he would not respond. He kept staring up into the dark sky. So I went closer, as close as possible to the window, my nose flattened by the cold pane, and tried to figure out what it was. I could see nothing special.

Just when I was about to turn around and start playing with my new toys, I saw it. Up there. There were only one or two at a time, white against the sky, and hardly visible, but those were definitely snow flakes falling from the sky.

I had never had snow at Christmas before, so the thought of a proper white Christmas was incredible. So I kept standing there, excited to see if the snowfall would get heavier, or stop. And after a while it did grow heavier. We watched the green of the grass at the front of the house being covered by white. We saw the black silhouettes of the trees turning white, slowly. The bushes and every single part of the sad-looking dark world outside turned white, just as if the angels themselves had dropped their feathers on our world. And all I could think of was that this was the best Christmas present I had ever got.

I can't tell you how long I was standing there for. Two little boys were fascinated by the snow falling outside. But finally my brother broke the silence.

'Let's build a snowman,' was what he said.

Christmas Past 2009, 18

Christmas Day, Bondi Beach.

My mother watched from the shore, as she had a broken foot, and stitches, but we still played in the water, oblivious to her desire to be with us. We swam out far, I mean my father swam with me on his back, as I was only four years old.

We reached a sandbank, and the waves towered over me, and knocked me down every time they hit me. I laughed and splashed, while my brother was tumbled as if he was in a washing machine.

Our fun was cut short as a helicopter flew overhead, announcing a Great White Shark. It had been spotted just off the beach. It was time to go back to the beach. Barbeque time.

Christmas Past 2009, 17

17. Christmas is supposed to be a happy time of year, when you exchange gifts and spend time with your family. However, what we forget is how some people have to face horrific times during Christmas.

Sometimes you are too young to be aware of what's really happening. The Christmas of 2006 would have been the worst-ever Christmas for me if I had been aware of what was happening to my father. He was in hospital, not aware yet that he had cancer. So he was suffering, and in pain. But even though you might not be aware of it at the time, it almost upsets you more when you are older. Just the thought of having not known can make you feel guilty.

Christmas Past 2009, 16

It was late on Christmas Eve and I clearly remember the delight on my brother's face. We had placed our 'stockings' at the end of our beds. These stockings were the biggest of our father's socks that we could find. My brother's was a murky green one, knee-high and quite stretchy. Mine was a tangerine colour, and even longer than my brother's, much to my delight.

I remember how I had set out a glass and brandy and some cookies for Father Christmas, and my brother had found a large carrot for Rudolph. Our parents told us we had to go to bed early because Santa wouldn't arrive if we didn't. My brother shouted out in protest and insisted that we have 'The Night Before Christmas' read for us. Our father agreed, and sat down beside the fire with the book.

The next morning we woke with a huge present by our beds, but before we opened it we rushed to see if Santa had eaten his cookies and drunk his brandy.

As we came into the sitting-room, we realised that not only had he had his treats, but he also had left soot-marks all across the carpet. My brother screeched: 'He must have been here!'

Christmas Past 2009, 15

15. My Granny was around. We decorated the tree as usual like every year, except that this year Granny didn't know who we were or where she was. She had moments of memory, and it all took me back to when I was ten, giving her home-made presents, one after the other.

She passed away three days later, but I'm glad she got to enjoy one more Christmas.

Christmas Past 2009, 14

Four year-old innocence :

My eyes open and it is still dark. I slide out of bed and run down the corridor. I stop outside the glass doors into the living-room. I can see the lights of the tree twinkle. I shiver. What if HE is still in there?

I push the door open and am dazzled with the array of toys under the tree. I find my gift. I love it. It is just what I wanted. I notice that the bed-sheet in my doll's cot is just like the one on my own bed. I notice that the bars on the cot are made from sticks similar to the ones my father gave me to play with only a week ago when he was working in the shed. I wonder why Daddy never tried making a cot for me out of that stuff.

But how could he? He's not Santy.

Christmas Past 2009, 12

Our series continues this week - anonymous pieces about Christmas Past written on our recent 'Everybody Writes' Day:-

12. A child's thought at Christmas. Eyes as big as saucers scan the wonder of the white blanket that evens the odds of the ground outside. Eyes that grow wider with the thought of shaping snowy friends, garbed in yesteryear's hats and scarves, to keep them warm!

Christmas Past 2009, 13

Cloves, as you stick them into the ham for an extra punch.
Holding your breath, as you hope for what you get.
Roast as the smell smothers the house.
Insomniac, doing the all-nighter.
Stockings hanging from the mantel-piece.
Tree - all the work to get it perfect.
Mistletoe, where the first kiss is made.
Amazement fills your face, and
Silence as the grace is said.

Christmas Past 2009, 11

I crept down the stairs, the silence of the house pressing in against my ears. I passed the dark form of the Christmas tree, nestled in the corner with pinpricks of colour peeping through the gloom.

Gently I pressed on the handle of the door, and was met by the cold still air outside. The silence became even more dense, as if in anticipation. Even my two dogs greeted me, it seemed, in hushed tones as if they too knew the significance of the day. I slid open the icy cold lock on the gate. The feeble squeak of the metal echoed through the stagnant air and seemed to reverberate off the hard frost-covered ground.

I walked out and looked down the road. It snaked away from me, the dusting of snow reflecting the silver moonlight. The stark trees were silhouetted against the moon. I felt as if I must be the only one in the world awake, the first to breathe the misty air, to see nature before anyone else.