Paper chains everywhere. My Dad loved them and made intricate patterns on the ceilings.
I had a pillow case by my bed with presents which I took to my parents room to open, small things, colouring, sweets and some clothes. Our children always brought their stockings to our bed to open and even now I love opening a gift sat in bed on Christmas morning.
After breakfast we all helped prepare vegetables and lay the table. Mum then went off to change, she always had something new to wear and it was ages before I realised it was the only time in Winter she had anything new that wasn’t knitted by her.
We’d sit by an open fire, often with an Aunt and Uncle. The adults had a drink, my Dad delivered the gifts from under the tree, always a doll and a book for me, small things for the adults.
Christmas morning was a very special time. Warm, relaxed, full of happy anticipation. The shape of it was carried forward with our children. I love that one son and his wife do the same things with their family, the magic is still there. No paper chains though .