Christmas nostalgia

How do you view Christmas? Some say they hate it, some love it. Do you feel it emotionally as the birth of Jesus? Do you dislike the materialism of all the present-buying mainly for children and adults who already have enough? Or do you see it with the eyes of a small child waking up early on Christmas morning?

Our journey the other day had its sights firmly fixed on Christmas fare. My grandson and I were going to a shop in Lloret de Mar which sells all that one would need for an English Christmas. Being vegetarian we were not looking for turkeys to roast, but rather Christmas crackers, serviettes with Father Christmas drawings, Quality Street's 'Magic moments', hand-made Stilton biscuits, Birds custard to go with the Christmas pudding, Jacob's biscuits for cheese.

Don't get me wrong. I've lived in Collsacabra for many years, I speak Catalan and love living here, but still, even with the 'Tió', my heart in December, writing the first Christmas cards, yearns for the Christmas Day I used to have as a little girl. And so to Lloret...

We left about one o'clock and planned to have lunch in about an hour at the 'Hostal del Fang', a restaurant at the side of the road where I had always wanted to stop and have lunch. The moment we climbed the front steps and entered, 'Christmas' had arrived. Everything was ancient, agricultural wooden forks and hoes, ceramics of long ago: peasants, butchers and bakers, candle-stick makers...A bright fire was burning (I hardly noted the sun was shining brightly outside!). With tables full of men and women, laughing, joking, and eating heaped plates of farm produce. Mine Host was affable and welcoming, rolls and olives materialised on the table. This was the Catalonia of long ago, but it was also the England of long ago. The two had become one. We ate a meal of perfect peace and contentment.

On the way to the coast we passed through beautiful countryside, flat through Amer, with the mountains soaring on the right, then through the brown oaks near Anglès, and on past the pine forests of Sant Coloma de Farners. As our car rose to the heights before dropping into the town of Lloret de Mar we saw the glorious blue of the sea behind the towering white blocks of tourist flats.

We had arrived!