One of the advantages of ironing tea towels - and there are many, of that I am sure - is that the task gives you the time to do some serious thinking, often of matters of national or international importance, as you move the iron over the linen. Having just spent a happy few minutes at the ironing board - white and coloured boiled handkerchiefs as well, I would add - I have been thinking about Christmas in the past.
My earliest memory of Christmas is in 1938 at the William Torbitt Primary School where Mr Train was Head Teacher and I believe - but I cannot be sure - that my teacher's name was Miss Billington. My class of five-year-olds was to perform a nativity play and I was given the part of a rabbit. I would guess it was a non-speaking part and as my knowledge of the nativity was sparse, I did not query why a rabbit would feature but accepted in good faith that a rabbit had been in that stable all those years ago with the ox and the ass and the baby Jesus - and many other animals for all I knew and a few birds, too, I would suspect.
Now I should warn you that the story takes a turn for the worst so if you are of a gentle nature who does not take kindly to shocks, I would suggest you leave now and prepare to watch Eastenders or Listen With Mother (if that is still broadcast, for I am somewhat out of touch).
Come the day of the performance and this rabbit was all wide-eyed and bushy tailed (metaphorically speaking that is), when Miss Billington (or whoever) called me to one side to advise me that I would not be part of the cast as the rabbit costume had not arrived.
I was thunderstruck with grief and anguish. Indeed, it was some weeks, months or even years before I came to terms with the fact that this rabbit had to sit in the main hall amongst pupils who were not of my class and, therefore, children to be avoided at all costs. Nothing would shake me from my sadness - not even when the girl in my class (who had long ginger hair and freckles, I recall) whose parents ran the newsagents emporium opposite King George Hospital distributed Christmas cards to us all - the only card I received that year.
In case you are wondering, I have come to terms with it all now - so no need for sympathy cards and the like.
