Strawberry Fields
“What was more, the snow was lying. Sefton Park was a wonderland, the grass smoothly blanketed, the trees outlined in white. All the way down Aigburth Road Sara Cordwainer, who was twelve years old, admired the magical scene. She sat between her mother and father in their big Rolls-Royce motor car, with the chauffeur, Robson, cut off from them by a glass panel, and stared with all her might, convinced that the snow had come because she had been good – and because it was Christmas, naturally.
Alr...eady, her day was planned. Church first, which was much more exciting on Christmas Day than on any other day of the year, then round to Snowdrop Street to pick up her old nanny, and home for all the wonders of Christmas dinner – roast turkey, crackers, a plum pudding to which Cook would set light just before she brought it into the room – and at tea time, presents round the Christmas tree in the white drawing room.
There would be a present at church today, too. The Reverend Atwell had started giving the young members of his congregation a present at the Christmas morning service six years earlier, and now it was expected.MoreLess
Alr...eady, her day was planned. Church first, which was much more exciting on Christmas Day than on any other day of the year, then round to Snowdrop Street to pick up her old nanny, and home for all the wonders of Christmas dinner – roast turkey, crackers, a plum pudding to which Cook would set light just before she brought it into the room – and at tea time, presents round the Christmas tree in the white drawing room.
There would be a present at church today, too. The Reverend Atwell had started giving the young members of his congregation a present at the Christmas morning service six years earlier, and now it was expected.MoreLess
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