‘Why do you have a spark plug on your Xmas tree?’ my son-in-law asked last weekend.
A few years ago, a friend and I were in Guernsey during the 60th anniversary celebrations of the island’s liberation from the Nazis. The island held a parade where the islanders dressed up in uniforms and clothing of the time. A rather dashing ‘dispatch rider’ – doesn’t a uniform really make a man?? – on a vintage motorbike stopped beside us, switched out his spark plug and handed me his old one. That, I decided there and then, would be my Xmas memory of that trip.
One of the hardest things I had to do when sorting through the 37+ years of ’stuff’ that we had collected during our marriage, was figuring out which Xmas decorations to keep or discard. My ex’s sister had given us some gorgeous ones for our first Christmas together in 1977, including some silk horses I adored. I remember the excitement in my heart the first time I hung them. But I couldn’t take them with me. Those memories were too painful. Continue reading