Memories of past festive seasons

I'm a bit busy at the moment, so I thought that I might republish a slightly adapted version of an old post I wrote in 2013. It's a look back to festive seasons of earlier years and seeing we're on our way to the end of the year, I thought it might be nice to revive it.

MEMORIES OF PAST FESTIVE SEASONS

Christmas lights already on in our harbour

As we approach the festive season, I start thinking of previous years and other such seasons spent in different parts of the world. The recent cold snap has of course reminded me of how I miss South Africa, barbecuing in the sun while the Christmas tree with its fake snow twinkled inside the house. Of course it's a bit early for Christmas yet, but given the fact that Sinterklaas arrived in the Netherlands on Saturday, we are gearing up to it here in the flat lands.

A grand Sinterklaas arrival in Rotterdam some years ago

The Sinterklaas transporter: pakjesboot means parcel boat,
because it's what he brings all his gifts on

However, other Christmases I recall were those I spent as a child in London. We lived in an old Victorian house in St John's Wood. It had so much rising damp I thought it was normal that we redecorated our basement every year to disguise the mouldy patches crawling up the walls. Imagine my surprise when later I discovered that only our house seemed to need this kind of regular smooshing! It was also cold and draughty and central heating was unheard of then, but fortunately we had coal fires in most of the rooms.

At Christmas, we would have a massive tree in the hall festooned with lights and coloured balls, and the paper chains we used to make hung in every room. We always went to midnight mass in the centre of London too. There were churches where the services were just glorious with magnificent choirs and organ music. I remember loving these services, even when I was small. They were quite magical and very exciting when you were about eight and out so late.

Then there were Christmases in the west country, in the large and hopelessly impractical house my parents bought on the Dorset, Devon and Somerset borders. It was even more draughty than the London house, and we rattled around in its voluminous space, but we all loved the oversized rabbit warren of rooms and wings it consisted of. Again, we had a huge Christmas tree in the hall that we ritually decked with all manner of baubles and homemade decorations every year.

The house was really much too big and the ceilings too high for paper chains, but we did our best. We used to go to midnight mass there too - at our own church but also to the carol service at the village church. Breakfast after midnight mass was baked ham with homemade bread and jam we'd also made ourselves from the blackberries in the summer months, or marmalade my mother made from Seville oranges. We had no TV then, so we would play card games and roast chestnuts in the open fireplace, huddled near it as there was no other heating either. We used to go to bed wearing socks and jerseys because the rooms were so cold. It was really lovely, though. I hated leaving London at first, but once I got used to living in the country, I was completely smitten.

The Ténacité at Anderlecht

But what about the festive season on my barge? That's been another kind of magic and in Rotterdam, there've been many memorable end of year celebrations. That said, there was another boat, the Ténacité, in another place – Belgium. This was many years ago now, but some of you already know that for three years, I had a barge at a place called Anderlecht just outside Brussels. I've mentioned it in blog posts before, and it was from there that one December we took the Ténacité to Clabecq in Wallonia. We stayed there for Christmas, a time I will always remember with fondness.

The towpath at Clabecq

There was a boating community on the canal between Brussels and Charleroi just past the lock at Lembeek and we knew a few of the people who lived there, so we slotted ourselves in between them for a few days to spend some time in the countryside. It snowed and we went for long walks in the woods or along the towpath. I painted (pictures this time and not boats) and wrote. We made our own bread, and generally lived as I've always wanted to - on the water, but in a rural environment.

We even went to a new year's party on one of the boats. There were no fireworks, there was no Wifi, there was no trite TV - there was just peace, snow, the rocking of the barge as the commercials sped past and a real feeling of a still winter's world. I sold the Ténacité in 2006 for reasons I've mentioned before, and I still regret having to part with her as she was a lovely homely barge. She gave us some wonderful times and treasured trips, but luckily the memories don't fade (in fact they probably get a bit brighter and shinier over time if I'm honest), and these are something I can always keep.

Another view of the Ténacité interior with my paintings on the wall

Well, apologies for talking about the end of the year before we've even got to December. It's the dark and shortening days that have done it, but I hope this post makes up for the lack of current news. I'll post a proper update with all the recent doings in a few days, but for now, have a good week allemaal!