Stepping foot inside my mum’s flat, my eyes lit up in awe.
‘It’s like Santa’s grotto,’ I laughed.
‘Well, if you can’t go crazy at Christmas, when can you?’ my mum Diane, then 59, smiled.
Always choosing the biggest, fattest tree she could find at the garden centre, she’d even whip out a measuring tape to make sure it was just right. Bringing it home and putting it up proudly, she decked it out in red, gold and green – and no one was allowed to touch it but her!
I’d come home to Margate for Christmas, to spend the big day with Mum and my siblings, nieces and nephews, as well as my nan.
Christmas was always a big traditional family affair for us.
Coming home for the festive period was so special, it made me feel like an excited kid
