Christmas, I feel, despite the commercialism of our age, has never been better. Prior to her death, my great-great-step-grandmother (who I have mentioned before, but who was very nice and so interesting, as she was a servant in the so -called "Gilded Age"), told me about Christmas prior to the Great War. As Jesus' birthday, Christmas Day was to be treated just like a Sunday. Therefore, no toys or books to be given or read that were not religious, Sunday best was to be worn (typically the tightest fitting, most uncomfortable clothes), and singing was unheard of. All gifts were exchanged on Christmas Eve, which was spent at home, playing the piano and singing, reading aloud, playing parlour games, and enjoying each others company. At least, it was for the family. The servants were still toiling downstairs and in vacated rooms, while my grandmother had the somewhat easier task of sitting quietly in a corner waiting to take her three young charges upstairs to the nurseries when they became tired, and started to throw tantrums.
Christmas Day was started off with a church service, followed by a walk. Upon returning, Christmas luncheon was taken. The afternoon was spent paying calls to family and friends. The servants, meanwhile, got the afternoon off as soon as the dishes were done and cold turkey laid out ready for a light supper, having spent the morning slaving to get lunch ready.
My grandmother never, however, explained what would happen if Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday, thereby making present giving impossible. The mind boggles...
