Christmas Eve 1950, we four children, aged from 2 to 8, crouched in front of the roaring fire ready to blow our lists up the chimney to Father Christmas as we did every year. We called out our desired gifts full of optimism that we might get just one of them as well as our usual apple, orange and new penny! I’d been very good and desperately wanted a large walking, talking doll which I’d seen in town, with long, curly hair and eyes which opened and closed. I’d chosen her name already: Esmeralda: a beautiful name for a beautiful doll.
On Christmas morning we tore downstairs in the chilly house to open our stockings, first checking that Santa had eaten his mince pie and there were reindeer tooth-marks on the half-eaten carrot. A small plastic baby doll fully dressed in hand-knitted pink clothes poked out of my stocking. My younger sister was clutching an identical doll but hers wore blue knitted garments. No sign of my longed for large, walky, talky doll Esmeralda, so with tears in my eyes I sorrowfully named the sad, little substitute Rosebud. My six year old sister Mollie was delighted with her blue-clad dolly and named it Bluebell and spent the time until church carefully removing her soft woollen clothes and putting them back on again.
At ten o’clock we three big children set off up the long hill to church with Dad; Mollie clutching Bluebell. Our breath puffed out in a dense white cloud, I could feel my lips and nose starting to freeze like my mitt covered hands and welly clad feet.
‘Look lively, everyone ‘ said dad, ‘it looks like snow. It’s cold enough.’
The church was ablaze with light and packed with people but still very cold. We rushed to the front to check that baby Jesus had safely arrived in the manger overnight. The crib was quite big and there in the straw filled manger was a naked baby boy, his only garment a tiny nappy.
‘Baby Jesus looks cold,’ whispered Mollie hugging Bluebell to her chest.
‘Ssh,’ said dad, ‘ come and sit down it’s time for ‘Away in a Manger’ your favourite carol.’
We sang away lustily, anxious to escape and check whether it had started to snow outside yet.
As we were leaving the church I cast one last glance at the crib. To my surprise baby Jesus was now snugly dressed in a blue woollen coat, with matching bonnet and bootees. Mollie had already left with Bluebell ensconced snugly inside her coat.
As we started down the hill soft feathery snowflakes started landing on our faces and clothes, and we ran home to mum and I forgot all about Esmeralda and tucked Rosebud in my bed to keep warm. We looked out at the heavily falling snow and pulled on our ‘playing-out’ clothes and wellies ready to build a snowman and have a snowball fight, it was turning into our best Christmas ever!
