Pickings for Christmas

IN the comparative austerity of a 1960s childhood, the electric thrill of Christmas I was switched on with the lights in London's Regent Street and the Norwegian tree in Trafalgar Square.

- By Isabel Bannerman

As the day came nearer, our house a then-typical, battered London Georgian terrace house of stairs, lino and gas fires-thrummed to preparations, new sensations, out-of-the-ordinary smells, presences and people. Sorcery conjured up forests of boughs, parcels and aunts bearing packets of mystery. The tree arrived and was dressed only with glass baubles. Picture rails and pictures were obscured with spruce, holly, ivy; dark green branches, breathing pine, turpentine, lemon rind. Novel smells permeated: mint, chocolate, tangerines, syrup of ginger and marrons glacés. So much exciting unfamiliarity. Music came from the record player-The Beatles and Bach-and with candlelit carol singing.