Nan had spent the day getting the farm kitchen ready for the annual Christmas party that celebrates the arrival of Jesus. The party usually lasts all night. Mistletoe, holly berries, decorations and a huge Christmas tree had arrived - collected by James, the youngest son, and brought here on his tractor in the trailer. The tree had been lovingly decorated from a lifetime’s collection of baubles, streamers and other objects including a tired looking fairy that drooped amidst the highest branches. Nan’s cooking and baking had created a lovely warmth in the kitchen - and the smell of turkey could not be ignored.
By mid afternoon it was getting dark and the family gradually came in with their muddy boots, chastised by Nan who, by now, had put out apple pies, the Christmas cake and puddings, the scones, with lashings of tea in the pot sitting on the Aga at the centre of the kitchen where they were going to party. “Oh stop moaning, Nan, I haven’t done yet, I have still got to do the milking", responded Jack lovingly. John came in next looking fed up having laid five miles of fencing to keep the cattle in; it had been blowing a northerly, and it was bitterly cold. "The cows should be in the sheds by now”, he lamented. Nan handed John a mug of piping hot tea, stirred it with four spoons of sugar - just how he liked it - and handed him a big meat pie and bag of crisps. He sits down, or rather collapses, into a comfy chair, morphed in his wellies and overcoat. More annoyance from Nan with her kitchen already filling up with bodies, muddy boots, and a sheep they have named Harold, one that the family has been nurturing, the runt of the flock.
But... the family is coming together, and in Nan’s heart this is all that matters. More sons yet to arrive - Peter ploughing the field and James, gathering the sheep off the hills no doubt; all busy, driven to join the annual Christmas gathering as they have done for ever. Their family bond unites them. But there is one more person yet to arrive - Mary aged six - the little granddaughter, who is adored by every member of the family probably including Harold the sheep. Mary has played her part in the school nativity play; which is still central in her thinking as she enters the kitchen. In she comes, with her baby and her ‘husband’ Joseph from the nativity play. (Tom, aged seven, from a local farm delivered by his parents). Mary hasn’t done with the nativity yet.
A hush descends over the farmhouse nestled in the Derbyshire countryside, embracing the whole family as it settles down on this precious evening. Mary declares, “There is no room for us!” reaching out for a mince pie and orange squash, living out her school play in dramatic fashion. Nan says "Well come in here my love, there is always room for you and your new family”.
The atmosphere changes. Everyone relaxes as they cuddle the new baby, Mary and her ’new’ husband. Tom. All is well. The evening bustles along with the nativity story - someone was sick during the performance at school and it wasn’t clear if it wasn’t Mary’s dinner down her front(!), followed by farming stories about broken down tractors, moody sheep and over zealous dogs. It gets late and Jack leaves to do the milking; Tom is collected by his parents after trying the newly brewed Sloe gin together with a large piece of Christmas cake. More tea all round, more stories of farming life. It gets very late. Stars twinkle; Jack returns without a word. Moon up and down; Jack goes off again to do the early-morning milking and they all then rouse themselves to make the best breakfast you could imagine - and then off they go to celebrate in Church, with an uplifting message from the priest and the singing together of Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus. Then, back home to the warmth of the farm house, a big lunch and very probably a long snooze during the King’s speech.
And then… yet another year in the life of a Derbyshire farm gets underway.
Happy Christmas to one and all.
Peter