For me it is the smell of Christmas which brings back childhood memories. I just have to walk past freshly cut pine trees to remember the ones we used to have. In the weeks leading up to Christmas my mother and I would make decorations, cutting coloured paper into strips
I am slowly transcribing notes my grandmother, Olga Woronoff, née Countess Kleinmichel, wrote over the years. The other day I came across this story which must have taken place on Christmas Eve 1921, somewhere in the South of France. I have narrowed it down to 1921 as there is no
When I was a child, we always had real Christmas trees. My father, my mother and I would drive to a Christmas tree farm to choose the perfect tree. My father would carry it into our apartment and place it carefully in the stand which my mother had set up
I have absolutely no idea what to blog about today. So, I thought I would write about how close we are to Christmas and how ill prepared I am. Two weeks to go and I’ve only just put my Christmas tree on the mantelpiece. Yes, you read it correctly. My