Christmas Eve 1960

It was Christmas Eve in the Murphy house. There were four little girls looking forward to Christmas, aged 7, 6, 5 and 4. This was normal in 1960. (There was no Sky television then. In fact there was no TV for another year or more). We were the lucky ones Santa came to our house.

For weeks and weeks before today, everyone was on their best behaviour as the threat was always there that Santa would know if we were not good and that may just compromise presents for everybody. We all believed this as there was no Google back then to confirm anything we were told.

We would all have to do our party song or dance to get our present.

Now there was the awful dilemma that was carefully planted in to our heads by our then single uncle who lived near us. He would tell us that we would have to kiss Santa to get our present but then planted fear in our heads that if we did kiss Santa, his beard would grow on our face! For us girls this was a huge dilemma as presents only came at Christmas. This was a really serious dilemma.

The long awaited Christmas Eve had arrived and with supper finished and the dishes washed and the Christmas candle lit by the oldest in the house (our granny - we learned later in life she was our step-granny). Granddad's first wife had passed away over 40 years before leaving 6 children. My dad being No 2 was 5 years old at the time (this was also normal at that time).

The waiting for Santa began. Then the noise outside the kitchen window and a rattle at the door and he was there. In our kitchen, Santa was settling in for fun.

One by one we all did our well rehearsed songs, dances and poems. Our mum and Santa would judge our performance and decide if another was warranted to receive the long awaited present. Without realising it at the time, this instilled in us all the realisation that one had to work for what one wanted.

All of us, now well in to our 60s, had long and productive working lives - and two of are us still working.

With the Santa bag (the old cloth flour bag) now emptied, Santa said his goodbyes and promised the same next year. All excited with our presents, we hardly noticed his departure. All happy that we escaped again without having to kiss Santa.

Years later we discovered that the Santa that came to our house was indeed our uncle dressed up, top to toe in a Santa outfit.

Each year my uncle would arrive shortly after Santa's departure and be so disappointed that once again he missed meeting the big guy.

Yes, obvious now, but not then!