Goolmangar Christmas

Memories of Christmas in Goolmangar

A headless chook running wildly around the yard with blood spurting into the air told me that it was nearly Christmas Day. The only time I remember eating roast chicken as a child was at Christmas or Easter. The killing of the chook is a vivid memory for me and I don’t think I had any concerns for its fatal situation. After all it was me that ran over a kitten on my dinky because it has a tooth ache. The second memory relating to the preparation of Christmas dinner was the strong smell of the process of plucking the bird in a warm water bath. I think I participated in this job occasionally with little joy.

Living on “Aintree” from the age of 3 to 9 I was fortunate to experience 7 Christmas Days, just at the right time of my life, when Christmas was exciting and holy, Santa was real and life was great.

Hugh, I believe, was in charge of the decoration of the Christmas tree and the house interior. I remember he and mum cutting up the reams of colored crepe paper in to long streamers of green, red, purple and yellow draped across the living room. I am sure I got in his way from time to time but is was a season of good will after all. Lanterns were hung and various bits of tinsel and more crepe paper were wrapped around the tree, which I assume came from “dickies” or somewhere along the creek bank.

Christmas morning came with a pillow case full of goodies, left by Santa, to be found at the foot of my bed. Straight into the bag with shouts of joy all around. Then it was out to the tree on the verandah to inspect the pile of colorful boxes that now surrounded the sparkling tree. At that time all of the presents were delivered by Santa there being no presents under the tree on Christmas eve, they arrived by reindeer and sleigh during the night.

However the next item on the agenda was off to Christmas Mass at the Goolmangar church St. ??s. I know that Dad and maybe Hugh and Robert had been up for hours to do the milking (cows don’t have Christmas Day off) but I was so inpatient to get into the presents. They had to wait and even though the Christmas Mass was more entertaining than the usual service, with beautiful nativity displays and stories and carol singing, it seemed to be an unbearable wait to get back home to get into the boxes under the tree. The adults seemed to spend extra time giving each other Christmas wishes after mass with us kids waiting in the car or pestering them to hurry up.

Back at home the presents were passed out by dad “Father Christmas” to the eager recipients. There was bowls of boiled lollies, caramels and nuts in impossibly hard shells. It made them last longer. I don’t really remember Christmas dinner however I can still taste the burnt crisp skin on the baked potatoes which were much better than the mashed potato that was dished up at normal dinner times. I did not like mashed potato as a child and can remember struggling through the pile of now cold mash that was all that was left on my plate before I could have sweets. Sue says that mum’s baked potatoes were probably baked in milk which provided the memorable taste.

The Christmas day sweets were special with the centerpiece being the plum pudding and rich custard with the hidden threepences and booby prize buttons. Heavenly tart and lemon meringue pie with home made ice cream completed the spread. Everyone had seconds.

After some tea towel flicking over the washing up the afternoon was spent enjoying the bounty of gifts, I seem to remember books, guns and other assorted weapons most. There is a photo somewhere of me standing on the verandah dressed in my new cowboy hat, vest with silver star, fringed leggings, with two six guns and no shoes looking really pleased with myself. If it was a hot day we may have gone down to “Santos” hole for a swim especially if someone had some new togs, tubes or other water sport aids to try out.

I don’t know if it ever happened on a Christmas day, but the arrival of a spectacular summer thunder storm, lighting up the evening sky with lightning bolts igniting dead trees on the range of hills that surrounded the farm, was a spectacular way to end the day.

It was a great age to live on the farm, too young to do many chores but old enough to enjoy all the adventures. I hope that my older brothers will correct some of the errors in my memories and I am sure we would all love to read their Goolmangar stories.

A very happy and healthy Christmas to all our family and friends.

Love Chris, Sue & Olly.