If I could have a wish or two from a fairy godmother I would ask for World Peace first then I’d ask, probably, for clear eye-sight, better hearing and to be a healthy weight.

At eighty, one has (I hope) learned that huge amounts of money are nice but health is so much more important. At the end of the day, you can only drive one car at a time, live in one house at a time, own and wear so many designer outfits, jewels, shoes and can only eat so many gourmet meals etc etc before it all gets a bit boring – but, listening to your favourite composers or the groups you have loved since a teen-ager, looking at beautiful scenery, looking at your beautiful family or your beautiful dog or your husband can bring so much joy, no matter your age!

Then there’s the thrill of looking at or making a beautiful and interesting piece of art; reading or writing an interesting article or book – and the thrill of entering a gallery or setting out paints, brushes and canvas or picking up a book or a magazine or, even, turning on your laptop and finding something interesting to read – these can be beyond price!

If there isn’t a fairy godmother around to grant my wishes, on the other hand, the optician, the audiologist, the will power to diet can bring about changes that are useful – though, sadly, not so swiftly or so completely.

We’ve just finished another Christmas and I know, from my own experience, that it’s almost impossible to buy presents for others, once they’ve grown up and are established in their own home. Every year I have to tell Julian what I want, Veronica tells me which books I should give her and I have to look on Jennie’s “wish list” so that I can give her something she actually wants. Anything else I give is likely to be a ‘toy’ for grown-ups which will be looked at, tried out , then put in a drawer or given to the charity shop. This year it was a “Toilite”, which, when fitted to a toilet bowl, lights up when someone visits the loo in the middle of the night! So far, in this house at least, it is in use and appreciated. (😂😂😂😂😂). I can just imagine, though, when the batteries are dead, no one will be bothered and it will join those other abandoned ‘toys’.

I guess I’m off the question I was supposed to be answering but I’ll just add a bit more before I finish.

Thinking of Christmases past, the best Christmases I had when I look back are the ones I spent with family and a guest or two. Julian’s mum, Angela, always cooked a huge meal for her sons and their families who had often arrived several days earlier with children and dogs. She and Ralph had a large house with room for everyone and we all pitched in to help with the cooking and clearing up. After dinner and presents we played games. The one I best remember took a little forward planning. Each adult would have wrapped four or five items of little value (a tiny calendar, a second-hand cd, a pad of paper, a chocolate bar, etc etc) and, at the allotted time, put the parcels into the middle of the table. Then, taking turns around the table, each person would throw a di. If the number of dots on the top side was 6, that person could choose any of the parcels and would put it in front of their place. When all the parcels had gone from the big pile, some of us could have as many as ten or twelve gifts and some could have very few or even none. Then, those with loads of parcels could offer several of them to the others and those with few or none could ask (beg) for parcels from those with lots. (There must have been incentives at this stage but I can’t remember! Damien or Harley, Julie or Griet – remind me)

At the end of the game, many of the gifts would be left on the table for anyone who wanted, to take. Those ‘gifts’ would probably have ended up in a drawer, in the bin or in next year’s parcel game!

Perhaps most memorable of all are the Christmases we had in West Malling in the years before I met Julian. Patty (my mother), Judy (one of my sisters), ‘Veronica’ (my daughter) and I were living in Market Cross Cottage. Judy and I were students, ‘Veronica’ was still at school and Patty was commuting daily to London. Money was tight at the best of times back then and, at Christmas, most of what we had we used for food. There were no big chain stores in West Malling at the time but there were two charity shops just across the High Street and the wonderful green-grocer/tobacconist/toy and gift shop opposite our house.

We were all avid readers and the charity shops were able to provide many books which we carefully hid from each other until they could be wrapped and labelled. Veronica was still young, and, although she, too, loved reading, we would go to the shop opposite which offered a large selection of toys at reasonable prices – tea-sets and kaleidoscopes, little rubber toys and cap guns, doctors’ sets and miniature dolls in lockets. In Swan Street was a wonderful shop called “Down Swan Street”, which sold wonderful and more pricey gifts. In most years each of us would receive at least one gift from there.

Jennie, who lived and worked in London always came to Kent for the holiday, sometimes bringing a friend. I remember an Australian girl whose name I’ve forgotten (sorry!) who came for several Christmases and having a stranger there somehow made the time even more jolly.

On Christmas Day our little lounge would be filled with an enormous array of colourfully wrapped gifts and we spent much of the morning, from 6am to noon, opening presents, eating mince pies and drinking large cups of coffee or tea – except for Patty who normally started as she meant to go on, drinking whiskey or brandy or gin. Christmas dinner was somehow cooked and was always the best meal of the year!