One more week of school before I turn into a child again, one who still believes in Father Christmas and can't wait to wake up on Christmas Day to see what he's left under the tree. It's always been my favourite time of year. The fact it is Amy's birthday on 3rd January makes this period of celebration so much more exciting. I trawl through the TV magazine to make a note of the programs I don't want to miss; I go a bit mad in the chocolate and nibbles aisle in the supermarket; I buy far too many Christmas crackers just in case we have an extra guest. Wrapping paper waits in abundance for that emergency gift, as the cards sit in piles on the table ready to be written to the ones I've forgotten. It's a busy time for me, but I like the hustle and bustle of Christmas, I love the preparation and spending extra on food stuffs and novelties I wouldn't normally look at throughout the year.
Our family have always loved Christmas. My dad adored the bright lights and excess decorations; he lived to see his family's faces on Christmas morning as we tore open wrapping paper and revelled in the surprises that awaited us. He stood behind my mum in the kitchen, waiting with anticipation for the turkey to make an appearance, browned and steaming and smelling delicious. His job was to carve it, that's all, but he did it meticulously. Then he would sit at the head of the table in a coloured paper hat and smile at us all, proud to share another Christmas dinner with his beloved family.
My sister and brother adore Christmas, too. My sister in particular takes Santa's Grotto to a new level as she decorates her home with ornaments, streamers and tinsel. A beautiful tree twinkles by the lounge window, adorned with family heirlooms. I don't see my family over the festive period as I live too far away from them now, but my dad's precious memories will stay with me forever, as they will the rest of our family.