Hi Lister Friends, I would like to wish everyone a Happy Christmas and the Best New Year, yet----and also share this Christmas memory with you. I shared it with Carole and her mother Ann over a year ago and I hope that they won't mind me sharing it with you all, now. It is of an Antipodean Christmas and not a typical one at that! Most of you have never visited New Zealand, or if you have, haven't experienced life in the backblocks! So I will have to "set the scene, first, before embarking on my narrative. My home was in a deep bay that was part of the Pelorus Sound, which in turn is part of the Marlborough Sound System at the top of the South Island. Some of you may know of the Sounds and even seen part of them as you journey on the ferry to Picton, but you don't see the most beautiful one -----Pelorus! My husband's marginal farm was well tucked away, with no road access.The reticulation of electricity had not reached our area at that time and other services we provided ourselves. So ---no "mod cons"! You might think that we lived in a time warp--- well, I suppose we did! It was Christmas Eve, in Nydia Bay, a deep inlet in the Pelorus Sound. For some years in the early 70s a gale and Christmas Eve co-incided, a likely event as it was the time of the Equinox. So this particular day was deteriorating from blustery weather to gale-like conditions as night approached. The farm chores were completed, dinner eaten and a little while later the four excited children twittered off to bed carrying empty stockings to place at the foot of each. Thankfully Keith and I relaxed over a cup of tea and whilst waiting for the children to fall asleep, we chatted and I got out my knitting. I had bought a doll for my daughter, Susan, and because I'd not been to afford the dressed version it needed clothes.I was still knitting the vest and had the other clothing to sew up. Auntie Florrie had tucked left over balls of Pingouin Krystal Krylor in pretty muted pastel shades, into the corners of her last parcel and it was ideal for the doll clothes I wished to knit. Eventually all was quiet---they were all asleep! Good! Now for the pillowcases, which we rapidly filled with gifts and goodies. We crept into the bedrooms, trying not to let anything rattle or jingle. The faintest "ting", and we froze, and tried not to giggle. At last the pillowcases had replaced the hopeful stockings, and we stole out. Now there was only the doll to be added. We companionably sat awhile in the lamplight , with the welcome warmth and dancing shadows of the wood-stove, and the kettle singing. A last hot cup of tea and Keith said that he was ready for bed, but I still had my task to complete. As I worked in the quiet room the violence of the storm became much more audible. Bang! Something hit the window, startling me, and I got up to peer through it but there was nothing amiss that I could see. Finally the last buttons and fasteners were sewn on, elastic threaded and the doll could be dressed in her pretty outfit. She had a dear little elfin face, a doll type that was all the rage that year; a "Squintzy" doll I think that they were called.Susan would be pleased! Now all that I had to do was to slip it into her pillowcase. I opened the door onto the porch, which had to be crossed to gain the new bedroom wing. Wham! Something struck me hard in the throat, something sharp which pierced the skin and made me cry out. Hurriedly I slammed shut the door and tried to think of a way around my predicament. At this stage of the house extensions that was the only route to the bedrooms, and it was blocked by a large sea-bird, frightened and probably half stunned from hitting th window ---and still attracted by the lamplight. I needed Keith's help and to get that I had to go out of the backdoor, creep around the house, and tap on his window.Tap,tap----not too loudly or I'd awaken the children! "Keith, please come and let me in, there's a bird on the porch. I can't come to bed," I said as loudly as I dared. "Hmmm---alright," was the sleepy reply. So I waited ---and waited---and waited, and tried again with the same results! Obviously I was having no success and just then to add to my miseries large drops of rain began to plop down on my head. I retreated back indoors and reviewed my plight. Bravely, I put out the lamp and then opened the front door. Ah, the bird had flown! I lost no time in crossing the porch and was soon snuggled up in bed, glad that I was where I was and not out in the rain, which had become a heavy downpour. We awoke to a calm sunny morning with no sign of the gale of the previous night. Excited rustlings meant that the children were busily opening their presents. I quietly related my midnight adventure to Keith, who couldn't believe that I'd failed to waken him. But if I expected sympathy I didn't get it, as the morning chores began and the children were too absorbed by their new playthings. There was breakfast to eat and Christmas or no the cows had to be milked, (by hand), and the hens fed, before we could become more festive. And as someone who enjoys drawing a cartoon or two I will admit that in retrospect it had all been rather amusing. I had to laugh when I pictured myself vainly pleading to my unheeding husband as drops the size of pennies began to fall from the inky black sky onto my head! It was a Christmas I shall always remember! And the abrasion on my throatassured me that I had not dreamt the whole experience! Today, I no longer lead a "pioneering" existence, but live in a pleasant suburb of Blenheim. So----- many of the previous events in my life have an air of unreality! Antipodean Christmases are so different from the ones I left behind and am nostalgic for, but with the sun hot, and the day bright many families enjoy barbeques instead of the traditional Christmas dinner . The important thing is that it is still a wonderful time for the children and a gathering of the clan. Regards, Muriel.

Hi Muriel....course you can share it...its your memwah after all....I still have the original version on my other computer. Since you wrote it, I realised that I have seen the marvellous Pelorus Sound...it is indeed glorious You were blessed to be part of its world ;o) Hugz Carole -----Original Message----- From: pollyp [mailto:pollyp@xtra.co.nz] Sent: Monday, 13 December 2004 10:53 a.m. To: ENG-BANBURY-AREA-L@rootsweb.com Subject: [BAN] : A Christmas to Remember. Hi Lister Friends, I would like to wish everyone a Happy Christmas and the Best New Year, yet----and also share this Christmas memory with you. I shared it with Carole and her mother Ann over a year ago and I hope that they won't mind me sharing it with you all, now. It is of an Antipodean Christmas and not a typical one at that! Most of you have never visited New Zealand, or if you have, haven't experienced life in the backblocks! So I will have to "set the scene, first, before embarking on my narrative. My home was in a deep bay that was part of the Pelorus Sound, which in turn is part of the Marlborough Sound System at the top of the South Island. Some of you may know of the Sounds and even seen part of them as you journey on the ferry to Picton, but you don't see the most beautiful one -----Pelorus! My husband's marginal farm was well tucked away, with no road access.The reticulation of electricity had not reached our area at that time and other services we provided ourselves. So ---no "mod cons"! You might think that we lived in a time warp--- well, I suppose we did! It was Christmas Eve, in Nydia Bay, a deep inlet in the Pelorus Sound. For some years in the early 70s a gale and Christmas Eve co-incided, a likely event as it was the time of the Equinox. So this particular day was deteriorating from blustery weather to gale-like conditions as night approached. The farm chores were completed, dinner eaten and a little while later the four excited children twittered off to bed carrying empty stockings to place at the foot of each. Thankfully Keith and I relaxed over a cup of tea and whilst waiting for the children to fall asleep, we chatted and I got out my knitting. I had bought a doll for my daughter, Susan, and because I'd not been to afford the dressed version it needed clothes.I was still knitting the vest and had the other clothing to sew up. Auntie Florrie had tucked left over balls of Pingouin Krystal Krylor in pretty muted pastel shades, into the corners of her last parcel and it was ideal for the doll clothes I wished to knit. Eventually all was quiet---they were all asleep! Good! Now for the pillowcases, which we rapidly filled with gifts and goodies. We crept into the bedrooms, trying not to let anything rattle or jingle. The faintest "ting", and we froze, and tried not to giggle. At last the pillowcases had replaced the hopeful stockings, and we stole out. Now there was only the doll to be added. We companionably sat awhile in the lamplight , with the welcome warmth and dancing shadows of the wood-stove, and the kettle singing. A last hot cup of tea and Keith said that he was ready for bed, but I still had my task to complete. As I worked in the quiet room the violence of the storm became much more audible. Bang! Something hit the window, startling me, and I got up to peer through it but there was nothing amiss that I could see. Finally the last buttons and fasteners were sewn on, elastic threaded and the doll could be dressed in her pretty outfit. She had a dear little elfin face, a doll type that was all the rage that year; a "Squintzy" doll I think that they were called.Susan would be pleased! Now all that I had to do was to slip it into her pillowcase. I opened the door onto the porch, which had to be crossed to gain the new bedroom wing. Wham! Something struck me hard in the throat, something sharp which pierced the skin and made me cry out. Hurriedly I slammed shut the door and tried to think of a way around my predicament. At this stage of the house extensions that was the only route to the bedrooms, and it was blocked by a large sea-bird, frightened and probably half stunned from hitting th window ---and still attracted by the lamplight. I needed Keith's help and to get that I had to go out of the backdoor, creep around the house, and tap on his window.Tap,tap----not too loudly or I'd awaken the children! "Keith, please come and let me in, there's a bird on the porch. I can't come to bed," I said as loudly as I dared. "Hmmm---alright," was the sleepy reply. So I waited ---and waited---and waited, and tried again with the same results! Obviously I was having no success and just then to add to my miseries large drops of rain began to plop down on my head. I retreated back indoors and reviewed my plight. Bravely, I put out the lamp and then opened the front door. Ah, the bird had flown! I lost no time in crossing the porch and was soon snuggled up in bed, glad that I was where I was and not out in the rain, which had become a heavy downpour. We awoke to a calm sunny morning with no sign of the gale of the previous night. Excited rustlings meant that the children were busily opening their presents. I quietly related my midnight adventure to Keith, who couldn't believe that I'd failed to waken him. But if I expected sympathy I didn't get it, as the morning chores began and the children were too absorbed by their new playthings. There was breakfast to eat and Christmas or no the cows had to be milked, (by hand), and the hens fed, before we could become more festive. And as someone who enjoys drawing a cartoon or two I will admit that in retrospect it had all been rather amusing. I had to laugh when I pictured myself vainly pleading to my unheeding husband as drops the size of pennies began to fall from the inky black sky onto my head! It was a Christmas I shall always remember! And the abrasion on my throatassured me that I had not dreamt the whole experience! Today, I no longer lead a "pioneering" existence, but live in a pleasant suburb of Blenheim. So----- many of the previous events in my life have an air of unreality! Antipodean Christmases are so different from the ones I left behind and am nostalgic for, but with the sun hot, and the day bright many families enjoy barbeques instead of the traditional Christmas dinner . The important thing is that it is still a wonderful time for the children and a gathering of the clan. Regards, Muriel. ============================== Search Family and Local Histories for stories about your family and the areas they lived. Over 85 million names added in the last 12 months. 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