My Christmas Story...

My childhood was filled with very many special Christmas tales and experiences, but the run up to Christmas and the tree decorating with my dad on Christmas Eve will always resonate joy and wonder. 

Now it should be noted that not just any tree would do, and certainly not just any Christmas decs would adorn it.  No, it had to be a carefully chosen REAL pine tree.  To quote my dad, "Oh my fock - that plastic shit that the Chinese sell, that's just rubbish - that's for Chinks"! (Okay, he was known for his rather colourful, not always PC statements). Oh no, the only tree would be THE one that only he would know once spotted.  This after driving for several hours and many km's later from one road-side supplier to the next.  And about when my mom had reached the stage of absolute exasperation at "Wally wasting my damn time when I have all the cooking to do for lunch tomorrow!" - which by the way would be served with military precision at on the dot 12pm!!!!

Then there was the carting home of THE tree, half hanging out of the famous maroon 66 Valient that was so well known to all in Cape Town (which for many years was my constant source of embarassment). And of course the dramatic offloading of the tree with pine needles and kernels leaving a trail in its wake before finally finding its place of prominence in the nook in the lounge.

Then...wait for this...the unearthing of THE Christmas decs from its storage place in the ceiling.  Now these were decs that my dad had gathered in his travels around the world and were an absolute source of pride.  These decs were never replaced, NEVER.  Hell no, that would have been paramount to committing a cardinal sin in my dad's eyes.  For they all had a special story to tell.  And tell them he did!

The greatest fun was in putting up the stuffed little birds that had long lost their plumage, the special little Santa's and candy sticks, the right amount of silver and gold bells (okay they were tarnished way beyond being classified as either silver or gold) the little red apples, and then of course the tinsel that had to be angled just right for THAT effect. And then...oh this was the absolute best part...the kapok. Until his very last year that's what the little cottonwool-like snowballs were called by dear old Wally. 

And people wonder why I have this thing for Christmas?  Well its that one special part of my dad that I will always, always hold dear!  My dad and Christmas are synonymous!  He is My Christmas Story and always will be. 

So as Christmas Day draws closer, I'd like to take this moment to salute my Dad...Mr God, give that man a Bells on the 25th!!!