opinion
Robbie Savage’s mum Val says we’ll find the spirit of Christmas if we look closely
In this week’s column Val, the 72-year-old mum of ex football hero and Mirror columnist Robbie, says giving to others will help recreate our childhood excitement of Christmas. And she has an unfortunate incident after sitting on a heat pad.
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Memories of childhood Christmases stay with us forever. My parents’ house was a two-up, two down with an outside toilet.
And me and the kids from the street used to have a competition to find the longest icicle from the wash house then suck on it. Nowadays health and safety would probably tell us we’d get salmonella, but it never did us any harm.
But maybe Christmas as a parent of young children is even better than those in our childhood because everyone knows there’s a hundred times as much joy in giving as receiving.
When Jonathan and Robert were little, I used to get up at 4.30am on Christmas morning and wake them by saying: “He’s been!”
I had even more of a thrill watching Jonathan open Lego and Robert bashing around on his new xylophone, both dressed in tiny dressing gowns, than they did.
Christmas changes when you’re older, and this year restrictions and my arthritis mean I won’t be singing and dancing at Robert’s house like I did in the past.
He keeps reminding me of the time I picked up a salt cellar as big as Blackpool Tower to use as a microphone, started dancing around his kitchen island and broke into a rendition of Blue Moon: “Ba-bom-a-bom”.
I might not be the mum I was 40 years ago, and I might be spending Christmas Day on my own this year. But I still feel the Christmas spirit. It’s there for all to see if we look close enough.
This week it found its way to me in a Christmas card from a lady called Francine Dickinson from Crewe which made me feel all warm, fuzzy and very moved by her festive kindness.
Francine and I don’t know each other. But she reads this column and like me has arthritis. And you won’t believe the way the card made its way to me.
Francine contacted her sister who lives in Wales like me, and through a chain of friends and word of mouth she managed to get to her card to a lady who lives nearby and it was hand delivered.
That means more to me than winning the lottery because the lottery is just money. The thought is so much more valuable.
Christmases are so different now that even my grandkids have grown up. And I used to love looking out the window on Christmas Day to see little ones with their new prams, roller skates, bikes and scooters. Now I see no kids because they’re all inside with iPads.
But Francine’s real effort to spread Christmas cheer is exactly what makes this time of year so special. And anyone, of any age, can enjoy it, and pass it on.
So let’s not forget the posties who gave us a wave on their rounds when lockdown meant we didn’t see many people.
Let’s send a little card to the child who coloured in a rainbow so you could put one in your window to honour the NHS. And why not thank the people who delivered your shopping when Covid kept us indoors.
Think about others just now and you’ll be amazed at how Christmassy you feel.
No bum notes from the Quo
My friend Sheila knows I’m in a lot of pain with my arthritic legs so brought me an electric heat pad. She said if I sat on it for an hour I should feel some relief.
Soon I changed the lyrics of Alicia Keys’ song This Girl is on Fire to My Bum is on Fire and sang it to myself. I had to go and sit by the open back door to cool down in case flames shot out of my backside.
Once I’d started singing, I started playing my old music on my iPad. I can’t dance like Tina Turner anymore, but my shoulders started doing her moves.
So after a seated performance of Proud Mary, I switched to Motown and listened to the Three Degrees singing When Will I See You Again? That made me feel sentimental and weepy thinking of my late husband Colin.
To pick myself up I switched to Status Quo and Rockin’ All Over the World. I would have started head banging, but with my blood pressure I’d have ended up in A&E.
So to anyone feeling a bit fed up, especially now the days are dark and drizzly, try putting on some music that means something to you. It changes my mood every time and transports me to all the different eras of my life. It’s a wonderful and guaranteed spirit lifter.
Wrinkles are rankling
Watching the 60th anniversary special of Coronation Street made me think, hasn’t William Roache aged well?
I haven’t. When I look in the mirror I see my face needs an iron.
Going nuts for snacks
This week I could not stop eating honey roasted peanuts again.
The packet wasn’t big enough for my greedy fingers, and nor were my small bowls. So I tied four knots in each corner of some kitchen roll and emptied the whole bag in.
I know eating so many isn’t good for me. But I have to keep doing it because they keep me regular.
Grisly death of the advent bear
I’m sad to report that the Lindt chocolate advent calendar is no more.
The big teddy behind number 24 had been winking and beckoning to me for days. So I ate his head watching Strictly and wrapped his body and legs up before popping him back behind his door.
But before the show was over his entire body was in my tummy and gold wrapper in the bin.
There was no way he’d have lasted until Christmas Eve. So I just put him out of his misery.
My hamper? It’s all scone
A friend bought me a beautiful Marks and Spencer hamper filled with tea, cakes and sweet treats.
I had no option but to eat the four Devonshire scones (and the little pot delicious strawberry jam) right away – I didn’t want them to go off before the best-by date.
And I would have shared the cake if people had called on me, but no one called on time.
Now the lovely grey wicker hamper is empty and I’m going to use it to store my prized possessions: Tena Ladies.
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