We were no longer living in the bungalow at 11 The Bluff, but had moved to a six unit complex at 234 E The Bluff. I will write more about 234E later.
I was 7, and no longer entirely believed in Father Christmas, but was willing to play the game. I awoke very early on that Christmas morning and in the dim light saw a strange shaped object across the room. My stocking, hung at the foot of the bed, bulged enticingly so I attacked that first. After disgorging its contents I found, at the very bottom an orange, traditional in England because oranges were rare, and therefore appropriately bestowed on a little English girl, although oranges in Japan were not that special. I found one at the bottom of my stocking every Christmas. That, and a little bag of gold covered chocolate coins.
Shivering in the early morning air I moved to the other side of the room and found, to my delight, a SHOP! It was a counter, fitted with a miniature cash register, a tiny balance scale to weigh things, and shelves filled with tiny packages of cereal, raisins, jars of jam, and larger jars of brightly colored candies and chocolates with little paper bags to put them in for the sale. When it was proper to do so, when the sun was higher, I rushed into my parents bedroom to tell them what Father Christmas had brought. I played shopkeeper for many happy hours after that.
My father won a live turkey that year, I am not sure how. He brought it home, and our maid, Jane, would have nothing to do with it. My father disappeared for awhile and returned with a nicely trussed, headless, footless less intimidating bird. A local restaurant had taken the live one in exchange. I remember helping to singe the pinfeathers.
We ate a traditional sort of Christmas dinner, turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes etc. and of course, a plum pudding with brandy set afire, and topped with a sprig of holly. I do not ever remember eating Japanese food in Japan. I love Japanese rice now, but in Japan the only rice I was served was rice pudding, which I though repulsive.
We opened our other presents under the tree. My mother had made me a new fairy costume to rival the one I wore to the fancy ball. This one was white, with a white tutu and white ballet slippers. The wand was silver, of course. I had begged for another one, and here it was.
My godmother, Mrs. Rich, who lived in California, and whom we had visited on our trip there the summer before, sent me a bolt of beautiful violet flowered cotton, so my mother could make me a dress. We could not buy such luxuries in Japan. She also sent me a charm bracelet. The charms were California themed. Cactus, coyote, and one I could not make out. We puzzled over it, until my mother said "I know!" It was Mexican hugging his knees, under a huge sombrero, and once this was pointed out, everyone said, "Of course".
Our neighbors, a nice older couple by the name of Burnie, lived directly above us. Mr. Burnie took a liking to me, and that Christmas gave me a beautiful wooden box with a carved lid that he had burnished and lacquered by hand. I treasured it, called it my Burnie Box, and was one of the few possessions I would take from Japan on our final voyage.
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