A Christmas Memory

My writing friend Tamsyn Murray is guesting on the blog today. She’s written a fab story for your Kindle, available here – go and get it today and curl up with some hot chocolate and enjoy a lazy Christmas read.

My favourite Christmas memory is from when I was eight years old. We’d just moved to a new house and my parents had been warning me for weeks that there wasn’t much money for presents; I think I’d pretty much resigned myself to finding a lump of coal and a lonely satsuma in my stocking, to be honest. Still, we had an open fire so at least I’d be full of orangey goodness and warm from my burning coal on Christmas morning, if also a seething mass of self-pity and hard-donebyness worthy of any number of Dickens’ characters.
When Christmas morning dawned, I didn’t even have a satsuma. Inside my stocking was a folded piece of paper with a riddle on it. While my parents watched, ignoring my pleas for help, I figured out the puzzle and found the next clue. That led me to another, and another, secreted all over the house and garden. Each clue had a little gift attached and before I knew it, I was having the Best Christmas Ever. I found my final present hidden under the sofa; it was the flat-packed Sindy doll house I had been demanding FOREVER.
I spent a happy morning arranging my dolls’ furniture in their new house, in a way that would make Laurence Llewellyn-Bowen shudder. It was a great start to a fabulous Christmas day and much more fun than simply ripping open my presents. Although now I come to think of it, I never did get that satsuma…

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Comments

  1. Maybe someone will now buy you an orange grove.

    Wishing you well for 2013.