Bespoke Advent Calendars of Yore
On opening door number 4 on the advent calendar earlier, I was taken aback be confronted by a shrill creaking noise. I’m not sure whether the sound emanated from my yet to warm up middle aged limbs, or whether it was rust on the door hinges.
Although on reflection as the calendar is made from cardboard I suspect it to be the former. That being the case, it appears there will be no requirement for WD40’ing the remaining doors.
Incidentally, I’m not sure if there is such a word as WD40’ing. However, at the risk of offending lexicologists, I included it out of desperation while struggling for a noun to describe the application of WD40.
If I’ve broken any lexicology by-laws, I apologise profusely and also ask for another 520 blogs to be taken into consideration.
The advent calendar adorning a small corner of our dining area is one of the chocolate persuasion. Or it was, until our adult daughter Rachel saw it early last week; since when every door opened hasn’t yielded anything other than fresh air.
I could be doing Rachel a disservice and Cadburys may have started marketing fresh air advent calendars. A shrewd yuletide pitch to boost the consumers oxygen levels and the company coffers. A product marketed with the tag line:-
‘When the carbon dioxide gets just too much, try Cadburys fresh air advent calendars!”
However, I suspect I’m not unfairly targeting my daughter. I proffer this as, shortly after examining the newly purchased Cadburys calendar, there were suspicions of chocolate snacking around her mouth. Not to mention several candy wrappers on the floor beside the festive countdown product.
I also suspect consumer gullibility isn’t yet at a level where that they’d pay for fresh air…. Give it a few years though!
Anyway, I’m not expecting to yield chocolate from behind any of the doors on the calendar, especially as they are all appear to have been tampered with, and are held shut with little pieces of sticky tape.
I don’t recall there being chocolate advent calendars when my siblings and I were kids. Living in a Amish community in the north east of England meant our parents made them out of any spare paper and cardboard to hand.
There was no festive snowy scenes of yuletides yore in the Strachan house. Instead of robins, holly wreaths, wise men, shepherds et al, behind Ian, Helen and my doors were clippings of the Radio Times, Daily Express, Cornflakes packets and the gas bill.
Thankfully, if one of us opened the advent calendar door to be greeted by the gas bill we didn’t have to pay it! The Daily Express in those days was the ‘right of middle’ propaganda rag it is today, without the obsessive repetition of Princess Diana and immigrant tales.
It wasn’t uncommon for one of us to open the door on the 24th December and find a grainy monochrome picture of Tory leader Ted Heath’s yacht or a disparaging comment about Labour MP Denis Healy’s bushy eyebrows.
In those days we used to have snow when St Nick made his spectacular entrance. Not that the kids in the Strachan home had an understanding of the meaning of traditional Christmas symbols.
Heavily influenced by our advent calendars, Yuletide to us was about the 1973 miners strike, power cuts and that we owed £2.57 on the phone bill.
Don’t get me wrong we didn’t live in poverty, my dad was a factory manager and although by no means rich, we never did without anything. We might have been rich if my dad’s factory had have took off, but there wasn’t much call for luminous hat rims in 1970’s Gateshead……. Or even now coming to think of it!
Some people say my dad’s innovative ideas were ‘before his time’. Moreover, I prefer to think of it as him having bloody ridiculous epiphany’s when it came to millinery production.
Anyway, I need to make tracks now as I’ve a few things on my ‘To Do’ list……. Oh, before I go, does anyone want to buy a Cadburys fresh air advent calendar?!
Remember what they say in the advert…… ‘When the carbon dioxide gets just too much, try Cadburys fresh air advent calendars!”…… That’s a no then?!