This is a story from 55 years ago – the 25th December 1959, Christmas Day, when I was 12 years of age (I’m 67 now – for those of you who arithmetically challenged!)
We weren’t what would be called a “comfortably-off” family in those days. Financially, it was sometimes a bit of a struggle
And for that particular Christmas, I wasn’t holding out much hope for anything particularly lavish
OK – to our story. It must have been about five in the morning when I got up in the freezing cold. And, boy, was it cold! We didn’t have central heating in those days – and fires were only set in the bedroom when one was sick and confined to bed.
There was a coal fire in the sitting room, but, being the early hour it was, last night’s cold ashes hadn’t yet been raked up, nor the day’s…
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