Rob Southerington--My Christmas Came Early That Year

Whilst writing this story, I was gripped from the start by pure nostalgia. Although many years have passed since that Christmas time, I believe that the central issue is clear from the dialogue. I hope that the following words have captured my emotions and feelings of what was a very special time for me.

I would have been about the age of eleven and I just knew what I wanted for Christmas; an electronic pocket calculator please! This was a time when such gadgets seemed to be the work of science fiction and James Bond. Oh, yes boy oh boy did I want to get in on the action.

I hardly slept the night before our Christmas shopping trip to Leicester. You see, I had never actually seen such a gadget, let alone held one in my hand. Only on TV had I seen such devices. Did they really work? I mean, could they really do your sums for you? I couldn’t believe it would be possible that I could own something as fantastic as that.

The journey to Leicester seemed to take forever but, eventually, the three of us, myself and my parents arrived at the calculator shop and, at last, I had one in my hand. I remember trying it out by entering a couple of numbers and, following the salesman’s tutelage, pressed add and equals and in the blink of an eye the miracle of mid 1970s technology lit up in bright red numbers with the answer. Not that I was able to check the answer of course. Yes, please, this Is the one that I want for Christmas!

So, my new toy was boxed up and placed firmly into my mum’s hand bag, Well I had briefly got to play with the thing and now it was to be put safely and firmly away until Christmas day. A day which, in my eleven-year-old world, seemed not to draw nearer, but to stretch ever further into the future with each passing day!

That night I slept even less, tossing and turning. My exited eleven-year-old brain going around and round, remembering with shear fascination the joy of pressing those magical buttons and seeing the red glow from those tiny red digits on that tiny screen.

The next day, I could stand it no longer. I just knew that my new toy was in the house, somewhere, so I set about my quest to find it and just have one small go with my new obsession. A reasonable decision? Well, reasonable or not, I would come to regret it.

But where to start my search? As the device was so small, the choice of hiding place – well, I assumed that it would be hidden by my mum, not that I had given her any hint that I would attempt to find it before the big day arrived, had I? I thought about this for a few seconds before deciding that I hadn’t.

So maybe it had simply been ‘put away for Christmas’ rather than hidden away from my prying eyes and fingers?

I figured if that indeed was the case, then it shouldn’t be too difficult to find. My level of excitement jumped to a new level. A few days later I found myself home alone and so free to start my own personal treasure hunt. More feelings of euphoria surged through me.

And so, the search began...downstairs living room... sideboard, cupboards, drawers- even inside the Radio Gram - It’s a 70’s thing - Nothing of interest there.

Upstairs? YES, it must be stored somewhere upstairs! I leapt up the stairs a few at a time and stopped at my parents’ bedroom door, opened it very gingerly and, feeling a bit awkward, pushed it open, expecting at any moment, a parental voice to boom up from downstairs, “What are you doing Robert?” I entered the room, but Where to start. I looked about me, taking in the vast number of drawers and cupboards that seemed to fill the room from floor to ceiling. Ok let’s start at the start, where ever that is!

Very gingerly, I opened drawer after drawer, peeping in at the contents of each one, with a growing feeling of unease about what I was doing. It just felt plain wrong to be rummaging about in here, whilst all the while fully expecting at any moment that booming voice to accuse me of heinous crimes and, as expected, no Christmas present. It was then that my eyes fell upon the wardrobe. Opening the door and peering inside a was confronted by...Coats, just lots of coats well, what did I expect, flippin’ Narnia? It was then that I spotted, sitting on the shelf at the top, a handbag. What’s more not just any old had bag but my mums hand bag, that same one that she had with her the day that we went Christmas shopping. Is it possible, could it still contain my new toy?

I very carefully stood on tip toe and lifted it down, hesitantly unzipped it and, noticed, right at the bottom a small box with four letters just visible. Comm... Commodore! bulls eye I had found it! Trembling, I slipped it out of the box, switched it on and looked lovingly at the little red 0 on the display. I pressed the buttons to make it calculate 2 + 2 and was relieved to see that it had correctly worked out that this made 4. Great. It works! I thought.

As I had spent, what felt like hours in this ‘out-of-bounds’ environment, expecting to be discovered and crucified at any moment, I quickly and reluctantly placed my new pride and joy back into its box and re-sealed it with the cello tape that came with it. Mission accomplished. I felt very smug with my little self. Now that I knew where it lived, I would be back for more visits.

And so, it began, for the next few weeks I got braver and braver with my little trips to my play with new toy. It even ended up that I didn’t always wait until I was home alone, upstairs I galloped to have a press at the buttons. I would even sneak my maths homework up to my secret place, just to check that I had got my sums right, you understand. I was totally fascinated by how the machine never seemed to make a mistake well, as far as I could tell anyway.

I soon found though that my visits became fewer and fewer and it slowly dawned on me that my new toy was rapidly becoming my old toy. With each passing visit, my future Christmas present was becoming less and less fascinating and more and more mundane and familiar. It just did not feel shiny and new anymore. So, as the big day drew nearer, I began to wonder what else Santa was going to bring me. No, I didn’t bother to look for any further goodies, I would just wait and see.

On Christmas morning, as I opened my boxes of goodies, which must have consisted of Air fix kit’s and Action Man stuff, I finally came to the moment that I had recently been dreading and I just knew what that last small box would contain. I opened it and had to fake surprise and delight to finally get to put my new device through its paces, something that I had been doing for the last few weeks of course. As very naive Eleven-year-old, I found this very difficult but how could I possibly fess up to my crimes? I learned a very important lesson from that.

The moral of the story is...pretty obvious really. BE PATIANT (especially at Christmas!) But, oh! The pure nostalgia that I felt typing these words!

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE

I’m 62 years young and live in Derby, UK, with my partner, Diane. Diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in November 20 15, I took ill health retirement from the National Health Service (NHS) in 2020, where I worked as a Phlebotomist from 2010. I’ve always enjoyed writing, particularly academic writing, a craft I learned from studying for a law degree. It’s only recently though that I have branched out into the creative sphere. I’m finding that I write from the heart and very often get quite emotional whilst typing and find myself just bubbling over with ideas and sometimes I feel that I just can’t type the words fast enough.