A Sweet Christmas

My friends, followers and readers. I do not send out Christmas cards, instead I offer you this short 

sweet little tale for Christmas. 

With my very best wishes for a very Happy Christmas and New Year. 

David Stevens 

A SWEET CHRISTMAS 

The Saturday morning before Christmas, started much like every other Saturday morning for me and my siblings. We awoke and instantly started making a noise, which eventually woke our sleeping parents. It fell to me to get shouted at by Mum for the excess noise, I being the oldest of her children and therefore deemed (unfairly I think) to be in charge or at least responsible. With both parents now up and the house filled with screaming kids the day had begun.


Yesterday after school we had all gathered together, and following instructions from Mum, we had transformed the house into a fairyland grotto of Christmas decorations. We even had a blow-up Santa and his reindeer placed on the lawn at the front of the house. Mum as always said that we, as a family, had to make certain that we fitted in with all that was going on around us. So it was that Christmas was laid out ready and on display.

This Saturday was not going to be like most though, Mum had made a decision, and dad as usual would go along with her. Today was to be another Jelly making day, and Mum already had the mold out and on the kitchen table was the huge pot into which she would pour the ingredients for this her treat. She banished all children, but me from the kitchen. As I said before she thought I was responsible, so she sent my younger siblings out to play in the garden, away from the kitchen so that she could concentrate.

The ingredients as always are kept in the cellar where it was nice and cold, and there was no sunshine to affect them. Dad, as per the normal routine of making Jelly, was dispatched from the kitchen to fetch the mix, whilst Mum placed a large pan of water onto the stove to boil. The process of making our latest Jelly was well underway.

I was assigned the important job of watching the pot of water slowly come to the boil, and then adding just enough cold water to the bubbling water to bring the temperature down to just perfect. Dad having returned from the cellar came over and removed the ready water pot and carried it over to Mum. Mum having picked up her ladle; she very carefully and evenly added the water to the mix she had been gently sifting with her fingers. The mix not only formed the basis for the new Jelly, it also contained the colourant. Mum for her own reasons, (she always chose the colour) has decided on a deep rich lime green this time. The point of no return had finally arrived. The colour was chosen and the liquids have begun to blend, so now the real magic began.

The water and the sifted paste had flowed together and started being mixed in the huge bowl. Mum was now using a large wooden spoon. Why it had to be wooden I do not know, but Mum said that it must be to get the blending just right. I was not going to argue with her. She was gently, lovingly, folding in and seeing that she soaked every particle of the remaining dry-mix.

Next as she added still more ladles full of water, the level in the bowl increased to nearly full. This was indicated by it reaching a line etched into the rim of the bowl. She put down the ladle and dipped her wooden spoon into the mix yet again; slowly she re-commenced to stir, starting slowly, gently, lovingly swirling the mix. Gradually her pace increased, until she was finally whirling the warm mix around the bowl with both hands firmly gripping the spoon’s handle and dad hanging on for grim death less the bowl go flying off.

Mum now needed dad’s help again, as she had to hold the mold’s sides gently, but tightly, and keep it level whilst dad poured the blend into the mold. It had already been placed on a pillow on the table, so that it was easier for Mum to hold it perfectly level. The other reason for the pillow she often said as I watched previously, was so that the thin outer case of the mold, which has always been very flimsy but was thinner still because it was now very old. It could not get dented, or it would deform the new Jelly.

Dad lifted the mix, which had now taken up the colour perfectly so that it was a lovely uniform lime green fluid. He very slowly ensured that he coated the inside of the mold thoroughly and first, before he poured the remaining liquid in, filling the mold to its brim. As always, the mix filled out the Jelly shape perfectly. In fact, and to the best of my knowledge this process had only ever failed once, but it had been totally successful each of the other seven previous times; we did not ever talk about the one that failed!

The mold once filled was wrapped in a white muslin cloth, as Mum did not allow anyone, including her to watch the final creation. The whole thing was then taken very gingerly down to the cellar and put into a framework of metal, especially designed to hold this one special mold. From there on time was all that was needed; it must be left for six hours exactly to set. During which time Mum would, I know, be continually looking at her watch.

Dad for his part would pat her reassuringly on her back trying to ease her tension. I of course, being of a certain age, did not wish to show my real feelings. I created a pretend image of being relaxed, well more like, who gives a damn. The time ticked slowly past, as below us in the cellar the newest Jelly slowly set into its mold.

I went out to the garden to supervise my siblings; who were playing nicely for them, which was unusual, but then even they knew that today was a Jelly Saturday, and Christmas would arrive tomorrow, which made it even more special.

Now let me see. Peter was under John, very well pinned down I thought. Carol was standing behind the tree watching Mary, who was throwing water over the scrapping boys from a small plastic teapot. Harry was with Mark trying to tie all of the scrappers into a knot with the washing line. And I, Samantha, the oldest at fourteen, am watching them all enjoying the sunshine and playing together nicely.

Later, once the process had finished, we would all be called to come into the kitchen to watch the unveiling of the mold, and to enjoy the treat that it should provide, but first the time had to pass.

It might seem strange to you, but it was just another day for our family, just another Saturday, despite it being a Jelly Saturday and Christmas tomorrow. There were, as normal, all seven of us children outside in the garden, the only different thing about this day, and it was not that different really to us, was that Mum was inside with Dad, waiting for the arrival of a new Jelly Baby. Thus, making us eight not seven, plus two loving parents of course, living in this house.

So, as I said, all in all just another normal Saturday. With us all outside, and Mr. and Mrs Jelly inside, the only odd thing for a Saturday was that soon we would have a new baby to welcome to the family, once of course it had properly set.

The End