By Jill Lowry
I was wondering around Rye Market this morning, noticing the Christmas items for sale, and it set me thinking of Christmases past. As a child and teenager in the fifties, I lived with my young war-widowed Mother in Croydon. Various other members of the family lived locally and after the excitement of Christmas stockings and a special dinner of roast chicken or even rabbit it became a tradition for everyone to gather at my Mum’s flat.She would make sandwiches and her famous trifle, and the Uncles would bring a crate of beer and perhaps a bottle of V.P. Ruby wine for the ladies.
Everyone had eaten a good meal and were fairly mellow after a visit to the pub and a few convivial toasts. Certain Uncles could be persuaded to do a card trick or so, and I was expected to do a ‘party piece’. I loathed doing this and grew more Continue reading Party Piece