Going back

And so, here we are in Middlesbrough for Christmas with my family. The journey here was a long one and I was dreading doing it on my own with the two children but, as is so often the case, they rose to the challenge and were angels.

This is the first time I have brought both children to the home where I grew up. Last night they slept in the room that was my bedroom from the age of 10! My son slept in my bed and my daughter in a travel cot where my dressing table used to be. I never would have imagined it and the impact of seeing them lying in my bed ready for story time caught me unawares. These two young children have lived in more homes in their short lives than I did during the whole time I spent growing up and until I left home to go to university. And for them the world is much smaller than it ever was for me, I wonder if they will have a 'family home' to go back to with their own children.

Apart from having the children sleep in my old bedroom, I am also enjoying sharing with them many of the toys from my childhood. My parents appear to have kept (perhaps for times such as these) many of the relics that were at one time favourites but I would have been hard pressed to recollect now. Amongst them are Lego sets (originals from the 1970s) and books. Bedtime stories tonight included a second reading of an old Ladybird edition of The Elves and The Shoemaker - they loved it and so did I. What a lovely story, a beautiful lesson for them to learn and a Christmas tale to share. There is something very grounding about going back to a childhood home.