You can find all 28 memories here.
It was an idea I picked up from Oldoldlady.
And then I made it bigger!
At my Crazie Christmas Party the other night, without telling them what it was for, I had each adult give me a number between 1 and 28.
So there are 6 memories!
Time for number 18 - margalit again (get well soon, love!!)....well, that's what you get for loading lots of lovely fake memories!
My brother and I were just talking about the Christmas that our family spend at your house and your mom wanted to light a fire in the fireplace even though it was about 50 degrees outside. She forgot to open the flue all the way and smoked us out of the living room. Then when the fire died down, your dad got the flue open all the way and stacked a bunch of pine logs on the fire, and we were looking out the window and kept seeing what looked like sparklers going by.
Then we realized that the chimney was on fire, and my brother got all upset not because the house was about to burn down, but because he thought santa might not be able to get down the chimney once the fire was out.
Ah, sweet memories... :-)
Margalit's family was over my house for Christmas again. Mum was cooking in the kitchen on Christmas Eve, making Maids of Honour and Gingerbread Men for Christmas. Margalit and I were playing in the lounge while her brother and dad steamed over a tense game of chess and Margalit's mum and my dad went for a long walk. They were gone for hours. Meantime the house got a bit cold (this was before central heating) so mum decided to light the fire in the lounge, making the house more cosy.
Unfortunately, as Margalit mentioned, mum forgot to open the flue and the ensuing clouds of smoke in the lounge threatened to spiflicate us. We all but smothered the fire and opened all the windows. Margalit and I burned some incense to get rid of the smell. Mum went back to her cooking and the games continued as if uninterrupted.
About ten minutes later, my dad came home with Margalit's mum and decided the fire needed to be lit again. He found smouldering embers and teased the fire back to life, opening the flue wide open.
'I got wood' he said and brought in a faggot of wood they had picked up during their walk.
'er - dad?' I said nervously.
'Not now, cq!' he said brusquely, separating the wood out.
'dad.....listen' I begged.
He made a huge drama out of picking out some nice big pieces of wood and threw them on the merrily flickering fire.
'what?' he turned and asked.
'dad - that's green wood, dad,' I said, pointing to the remains of the woodpile and the now smoking fire.
'no worries, love. It'll burn off lovely.'
I shrugged. His fire, his wood, his problem. Then there was a scream from the kitchen.
'Everyone! Come and see!' my mum yelled.
We crammed into the warm sweet smelling kitchen and peered out of the window where she was craning.
'The neighbours are setting off fireworks, isn't it pretty?'
'Mum,' I replied with a sinking feeling. 'That's not fireworks - that's our chimney on fire! Green wood!' I stared at my dad, before rushing to phone the fire brigade. We certainly kept that damned fire brigade occupied over Christmas in our youth!
Margalit's brother looked solemnly out of the window.
'No chimney, no Santa,' he said sadly. But when he turned away, I saw the glimmer of a smile. I followed him out of the kitchen into the lounge. He sat quietly at the table and the smile grew.
'Why're you smiling?' I asked.
'Don't tell anyone, especially Margi,' he warned looking at the kitchen door.
'This lets me off the hook! Because this year I was supposed to be Santa - and I remember what happened to your Uncle Frank!'
Time to 'fess up, Margalit. Your brother wasn't upset - he was thrilled.... :-)
picture (c) Douglas Laird