Diary of A Modern Gran | The Polar Express
It’s 5:30pm on a school night. George and Rose are beside themselves with excitement.
“We’re off to the Polar Express,” chants my grandson, jumping up and down.
Only if we get there on time.
At the moment, time feels very strange. It’s Christmas. I need to be jolly for the children. Yet my father is being cremated next week – three weeks after he died.
Part of me feels a bit guilty for joining in the festive fun. A friend of mine who comes from a country where mourning can go on for months, is clearly surprised.
But another part of me feels that even more than ever now, I want to be part of my grandchildren’s lives. So the Polar Express, here we come!
It’s one of my daughter’s working days. So I collect my excited pair from school, take them to the Christmas carol practice in the church next door and then whisk them back home for tea. Then instead of bath and pyjamas, they put a dressing gown on over their anoraks. It’s all part of the fun as participants are encouraged to wear nightwear. I compromise with three layers of thermals underneath a thick sweater, jeans and padded coat!
The Polar Express event takes place on a local tram which is also open during the rest of the year. But at Christmas, it is manned by elves who proudly announce that they are aged “up to 404”. I recognise one who was a granny chum from a previous toddler group and we wink at each other.
Rose and George’s eyes are wide with wonder as we take the tram to the north pole – a few miles along the track. And yes! Father Christmas is there with his twinkly eyes and grandfatherly expression.
“What would you like for Christmas?” he asks Rose.
“A violin, please,” she chirps.
My daughter and I look at each other with startled expressions.
“Has she told you that?” I whisper to my daughter.
“No,” she whispers back.
“Are you going to get her one?” I ask under my breath.
“No, Mum! Don’t you remember what it was like when we played?”
She’s referring to the time when I paid for my two older children to have violin lessons – at their request. They made such a horrible noise that I begged them to stop. Please don’t write in and tell me what a terrible mother I was. I know! I’m sure they might have improved with practice but it kept waking the baby…
On a brighter note, they had piano, guitar and flute lessons instead. Let’s just say that the sound was more melodious. My eldest came second in a national guitar competition; my daughter won prizes for the flute; and my youngest started a band that played at Reading Festival. Hope I’m not boasting but I do think that certain instruments suit some children better than others.
“And what would you like for Christmas?” Santa asks George.
“A guitar,” my grandson declares.
“My!” says Santa. “What a musical family you are!”
I look at my daughter. I don’t need to say the words “Have you got a guitar?” She just shakes her head.
But all the way back on the Polar Express, sipping hot chocolate and munching elf biscuits, I keep thinking of how disappointed the children will be on Christmas morning.
The irony is that I saw a small violin in a charity shop in town early last week. But which one? We have several. I began ringing round but no one could remember it. Was is a figment of my imagination? I don’t think so.
Then, cycling back from tennis the following day, I happened to spot one of those electric keyboard things in the window. I went in and had a trial demonstration. Wow! You can play almost anything on this with the most amazing sound effects. And all for £12. So I bought it. I know we already have a piano at each of our houses. But this will be an extra instrument for Christmas Day.
“We could joke that it’s a cross between a violin and a guitar,” suggests my husband. “Hybrids are very popular nowadays.”
It almost, but not quite, takes my mind off preparations for the funeral. My daughter is coming with me on the train while her husband looks after the little ones at home.
She has made a wonderful slideshow of pictures through the years. My father was quite a private reticent man and we’ve unearthed lots of little-known facts. My children seem to be learning more about him after his death than during his life. “I didn’t even know Grandad’s middle name,” says my daughter when I show her the service sheet in advance.
Isn’t it strange how many things we don’t know about our loved ones? It made me determined to do what I tell others – write down as much as you know about your family to pass on to future generations.
Meanwhile, my eldest son had his 39th birthday this week in Spain where he lives and works. Where have the years gone? We try to organise a family WhatsApp meet up on video but it proves impossible with my three children who all have different work commitments.
So we have individual video chats. It descends into farce when my son speaks to Rose and George. He always clowns around with them on the screen and they think it’s hysterically funny.
Uncles can be so special, can’t they? And aunts too. If you’ve got any special uncles and aunts in your family, we’d love to hear about them. We’d also like to hear about any visits to Father Christmas this year.
Meanwhile, if you are finding Christmas tough because of past memories or because you’re going through a difficult time, do get in touch by emailing moderngran@dctmedia.co.uk.
A problem shared is a problem halved.
Ask Agony Gran
Should I lie?
“I took my six-year-old grandson to see Father Christmas last week along with my son and his partner. On the way back, he suddenly asked if Father Christmas was real.”
“’Of course he is,’ I replied. Afterwards, my son told me that I shouldn’t have said that because it’s lying. I feel that it’s more of a tradition than a lie. But I don’t want to make my grandson feel that it’s alright not to tell the truth. At some stage he will find out.”
Nicky from York
Jane says:
Oh Nicky. A lot of us will sympathise. You were put on the spot! The truth is that there are no rights or wrongs. At least not in my book. At some point, your grandson will discover that Father Christmas is fictitious. But perhaps you’ll be able to explain that he is part of the fun in leading up to this special time of the year. At the same time, you might want to add that it’s important to tell the truth in everyday things. I’m aware as I write this, that such advice is very contradictory.
I might also be wrong. Who’s to say that Father Christmas doesn’t exist – at least in spirit? His kindness and generosity are models for us all.
This is such a complex issue that I’d like to throw it out to readers. What do you tell your grandchildren when they ask if Father Christmas is real? Please email us at moderngran@dctmedia.co.uk.
Family News
If you live in or near Glasgow, you’re in luck. It’s just been named the most Christmassy city in the UK! The survey took into account things to do, festive nights, shopping experience and the likelihood of a white Christmas!
The Funny Things They Say
Thanks to “Granny Ann” who sent this in.
“My car broke down recently and I had to get towed to the garage. It meant I was late for picking up my 10-year-old grandson from school but I managed to phone ahead and let them know.
“When he came out, he looked really worried.”
“Did you have to go to hospital, Gran?”
“No,” I reassured him. “I’m fine.”
“But the teacher told me you’d had a breakdown,” he said.
“I had to explain that it was the car that needed attention – and not me! It made me realise how children can misinterpret phrases.’
Children’s Book of the Week
Each week I’ll add a book recommendation here. If you would like to suggest a children’s book, please email us at moderngran@dctmedia.co.uk.
This week’s choice is Winnie and Wilbur, The Santa Surprise by Laura Owen and Korky Paul (£5.93).
Winnie and her cat Wilbur embark on a series of adventures to make sure that Santa gets a present too.
This was recommended by John who has three grandchildren. “I liked it because it reminds us how important it is to share.”
Thanks for getting in touch, John!
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