Socialist, activist and wife of John Hewitt
After 24 years marriage we had our Christmas alone. Saddened by deaths of Pappy, my mother and Mamma Hewitt’s death. The family scattered really. It was not the way to be alone – in this way I didn’t feel alone so much as stranded – I dreaded Christmas. Didn’t prepare. The weather was typical midland sky on my neck, sodden and unkind.
Then on 23rd feeling miserable standing in kitchen washing the dishes in the half-hot water the noisy and leaky tap here yields, I suddenly caught sight of myself with the tail of my eye. And I saw a middle aged but active still, fairly presentable when fixed up, woman. Married to one John Hewitt, a good man, with an interesting job. […] Maybe not many years more left.
At the most (aiming at 80) thirty years – they will go – the active ones will melt, I must try not to waste any more – so many I have mauled and torn with useless miseries. And much to my own surprise I suddenly was attentive to myself, lifted my eyes to the hill-less view of the gasometer and started on the Christmas Spirit like a job.
Immediately I made two plum puddings and Christmas eve a chicken came from Mrs McDonnell of the Glens. I think we did enjoy the rest and quiet and I enjoyed those days. Not as Christmas – but the fact it was Christmas did not dismay me […] I had not a single present on Christmas Day. What a change.
However Christmas at home is for ages up to 14 and over 45. In between Christmas should be spent a bit at home, a bit of help to someone and a rollick with young or kindred spirits.

