From sentimental scents to novelty mugs, Jude Rogers revisit the nostalgic power of presents
‘IT REVEALED SOMETHING PROFOUND: SOMEONE ELSE BELIEVED IN MY IDEAS’
1984: A surprise to mend my broken heart
‘I can’t remember the last Christmas I spent with my father, but I remember the one afterwards with huge tenderness. I was six, coping with my dad’s sudden death by pouring myself into writing and reading stories, when I came downstairs to find a bulky shape covered in sparkly paper. It was an old-fashioned writing desk; my childhood burst into life from this point. Adventures of young girls flew out particularly, and I became then who I am now – someone who found refuge and rapture in the possibilities of the pen. My mum, who’d bought the desk second hand from a neighbor, used to take it outside in summer, otherwise I wouldn’t have got any fresh air. Thanks, Mum, for giving me a place that was entirely mine.’
2016: New beginnings
‘Last year, my boyfriend of 14 years (and husband of five) bought me a present marking our latest adventure: a move from London to Wales. We’d spent many holidays among these mountains and big skies imagining a different kind of life, but had been too scared to break old ties – until we breathed in and smashed them. Our little east London house – sold. My husband’s job – quit, so he could look after our toddler. Me becoming the breadwinner and salvaging more time to write. It felt mad, but also exciting – isn’t it sensible, after all, to pursue happiness? Bought for our fist Welsh Christmas, my husband’s present of a book of Welsh folk tales felt perfect: romantic, full of history (like we were), and stories known and unknown, just right for this brilliant new start.’
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