Christmas 1958

Mary Brown

It was early Christmas morning and I was 10 years old. I had hardly slept due to the excitement that had been brewing for the past few weeks.

We usually got one main present and other gifts like an annual, colouring book, game, pyjamas, slippers and selection box.

Quickly scanning my pile for a likely parcel, I unwrapped it, and there they were, the one thing I wanted in the whole world. My very own white ice skates.

Still in my pyjamas, and before unwrapping any other gift, I put on my skates and tied the laces. Heaven.

I kept them on almost all day, walking up and down the hall in an exaggerated sweeping motion, arms swinging out at the sides.

No longer would I have to borrow the awful brown skates, worn by hundred of other before me, and that were so soft at the ankle, they were almost impossible to skate with.

We had Christmas dinner at my Granny's house and some more presents.

My gifts made my day complete. My Granny had made me a red felt skating skirt with two rows of sequins and bought me red tights which, together with the white poodle wool cardigan my mum had knitted, and my white ice skates, made me quite a dazzling spectacle in the mirror in my granny's bedroom as I twirled this way and that.

I felt so special, and couldn't wait to get back to the skating to try them out for real.

Fifty years on, and many presents later, the magic of that day remains a clear, bright memory.