Christmas in Wales, Englandby Suzan Flanagan
On the weekend we ventured into Haverfordwest to experience the local festivities. No sooner had we crossed the foot bridge to the market, Christmas festivities were heralded by the faint sound of carolers congregated in the town square. Despite the chaos and the odd curmudgeon, the excitement of Christmas prevailed. For each bah hambugger, were several merrymakers. We wandered aimlessly, our mission simply to immerse ourselves in the hustle ad bustle of the holiday frenzy. Thankfully, our itinerary wasn't shopping, otherwise we would have been among the scrooges who had long tired of the pushing and shoving. Amidst the hurrying and scurrying a lone swan glided peacefully beneath the bridges, parting the tranquil river waters, oblivious to the activity above. We continued following the lilting voices until reaching there source-Castle Square. Simple lights were strung around the square, trailing along the main streets. Salvation Army bells cried out. A brass band with men donning long blue coats and matching caps, clutched instruments of silver, rather than gold. Sitting erect, attentive to the conductors directions they accompanied the melodic carols. Just off to the side, in a high traffic area, an antiquated black vendors cart with gold lettering, offered hot roasted chestnuts and potatoes. Were it not for the glaring lights of Woolworth's, we could have almost stepped back in time a hundred years. At Woolworth's, we purchased Christmas crackers, curious what they were. Resembling giant tootsie rolls in brilliant metallic colors, we stuffed them in our stockings, having no idea that they were usually placed at the dinner table on Christmas Day. Like a wishbone pulled between two people, each held an end, tugging between them until it cracked open, spilling the contents. The crackers were filled with trinkets, their quality representative of priced paid, an tissue paper crowns. We selected inexpensive ones, the contents akin to those of gumball machines. In essence the crackers were personal sized pinatas with a mild fire cracker pop. Row after row of freshly slaughtered turkeys and geese, with traces of plucked feathers, hung in the butchers window beckoning holiday shoppers. Green grocers stands overflowed with cranberries, clementines, leeks, and new potatoes. Poinsettia skirted entrances: fresh wreaths dangled overhead. Mistletoe and sprigs of holly were plentiful. Bakers contained magnificent assortment of decadent sweets; scones, tarts, pies, gateau, and yule logs. Freshly baked bread was equally enticing. Freshly cut Christmas trees lined the market squares and vacant lots like obedient toy soldiers. Bearing hefty price tags, yet sparsely boughed, we dubbed them Charlie Brown trees. Our friends, short on money, saved foil milk caps, threading the silver, blue and red disks, to form a garland chain for their live tree; simple elegance on a lackluster tree reflected the true spirit of the season. But we, accustomed to the stalwart variety we hand picked and cut from main forest each Christmas, opted for an artificial tree-- a disheartening substitute but in form, at least, the tree met our expectations. Though we would miss the fragrant needle littering version, many Christmas would follow, but few in the country so endear to our hearts. Tree trimming required logistical consideration as British electrical outlets differed in size and voltage. Our tree lights had to be routed through a bulky step down transformer, an eyesore integral to our existence. Without the voltage conversion, American electrical items were useless. Our son found the humming black box fascinating, often jamming coins through the ventilation slots! Removing pence from his “piggy bank” was frequent chore. Our feet and legs ache from miles of winding streets. Hungered by the aroma by roasted chestnuts, potatoes, and delectable sweets we departed, leaving the wafting balsam, pipe tobacco, perfume shoppers — all the fragrances of Christmas time—behind. Father Christmas visited our sons playschool. The poor chap was a sorry looking fellow in need of grooming his skimpy, tangled beard. A new outfit was in order as well. The children hardly minded, they happily excepted the “prezzies” doled out, knowing full well the real Father Christmas would soon visit their homes. Our son was concerned as Santa had no chimney to descend. We assured him Santa could squeeze through our letter box using Christmas magic. Most everything shut down from Christmas Eve through Boxing Day (December 26th). One year we had to delay our trip to the continent as neither Brit Rail or the ferries were operating. All the shopping and decorating complete, merry making was underway. The weeks of anticipation accumulated in holiday parties, church services, candlelight vigils and visits with friends(and family by phone). Big Ben chimed over the news cast bringing Christmas Eve to a close. A pint of milk and plate filled with biscuits(cookies) and carrots sat beside our cardboard fireplace, awaiting Santa's arrival. Christmas was much as usual. However, dinner posed a few problems. Our holiday turkey that bastion of tradition, just fit in the electric cooker (stove) furnished in our flat! Out of habit we purchased a twenty pound bird. Not even a couple of sweet potatoes could be baked along side. With a frequent basting and temperature adjustment, we avoided burning the bird. The commissary had no cranberry sauce so we settled for the British version which differed in consistency. The next problem; our refrigerator was smaller than an American one. With milk stockpiled, little space remained, the only takers for excess turkey were those poor souls standing duty on Christmas watch. How easily we whined about what we didn't have and what we didn't like, what we most missed. Yet deep down, most of us knew what we had, was far greater than what we missed, and what we missed would not mean as much when we had it; we would then wish we could again be in Wales, celebrating Christmas, with those who had known and loved Wales as we did. Nadolig Llawen a Blwyddyn Newydd DA Merry Christmas and Happy New Year |
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