Recently Madeline, my wife, asked me 'What was the best present you ever got ?' I was brought back to my Christmasses in Atlantic Avenue in the fifties with my brother, mother and father, Great Aunt Mary, Grandma and Granda.

The Christmas tree, if we could get one, was wedged into a bucket, its bucketness hidden by red crepe and its uprightness steadied with lumps of coal. No one was allowed into Aunt Mary's bedroom because she had a secret. Throughout the year she'd keep household account books and each week she'd put sixpence aside for the Christmas turkey. When it was bought my brother and I would stare at it hanging by its tied feet on the back of the bathroom door. We'd reach up and touch its goose-flesh. Every year the grown-ups said 'It's a bruiser.'

On Christmas Eve we'd all go to midnight mass. Silent Night and See amid the Winter Snow were wonderful to sing and my favourite, Glo-oo-oo-oo-ooria, with as many o's as a train has wheels. Afterwards we'd visit the crib at the back of the church where, as altar boys, we gave out Holy Water at Easter. Once we were about to run dry and Father Farry told us to dilute what was left from the tap.

My father was a Commercial Artist (I have never thought of the oxymoron in that until now) and one year he painted a backdrop for the life-sized crib figures. Standing in front of it we were as proud as punch - the desert rolling away to the horizon, palm trees, a star the shape of a dagger and domed biblical houses, with the shadows in all in the right places. There was actual light, not painted light, coming from their windows. My father said there was a bulb behind the painting and he had sliced out squares for windows.

On Christmas morning our presents were set on two armchairs in the sitting room. The door would be opened, the light switched on and we'd dash in followed by the adults who would watch us tearing off paper and squealing.

To answer my wife's question - the best present was a thing called The Bayko Building kit. It looked expensive and was bought by my parents' employers. A green base peppered with holes - metal rods were inserted into these holes and a scaffolding built. There were red and white bricks which slotted between the poles, bay windows could be inserted and red roofs of different shapes and sizes put on. It was all so utterly middle class. They looked exactly like houses built for Enid Blyton's Famous Five.

The worst present was a toy motor boat from the same rich family. Its hull was blue, the deck and wheel-house silvery white. The package showed a craft of immense power slicing through aquamarine seas, almost on its tail with speed. I filled the bath to try it out. My father read the instructions. The upper parts of the boat lifted off and there was a wick and a place to put fuel. Total failure. The boat sat rocking in the bath, smelling of paraffin, slowly turning to face the taps. 'Maybe it's not working properly,' said my father.'We'll take it to the pond on Boxing Day. It might work better outdoors.' That was a funny thing about Christmas day, everybody stayed in. When you looked out the window the streets were grey and empty.

Then in mid afternoon the table was laid with a white linen tablecloth - a wedding present from Father Barney - which, like the turkey, had to be remarked on every year. It was partially covered with a red paper cloth and napkins to match. The good cutlery was brought out from its box. Inside there was red plush with each knife, fork and spoon resting in its snug slot. Some days before Christmas we'd have cleaned every one with wadding pulled from a Silvo tin. Glasses for juice had to be polished - it was always a teetotal house. The old ones had a shameful memory of a Christmas when they were given a bottle of claret and they drank it with hot water and sugar not knowing it to be alcoholic.They all had a wonderful time but afterwards felt deep guilt when they realized what they'd done.

Aunt Mary's secret turned out to be a table centrepiece - a cotton wool snowball. There was the right number of red ribbons coming out of the ball and each one went to a place card with a name which she'd written in her teacher's copperplate. Then, when we were seated, at Aunt Mary's command, we pulled our ribbons and a wrapped present came out from the cotton wool snowball.

"Thanks be to God for another full and plenty Christmas," said Grandma."Tuck in everybody."

On Boxing Day after the excesses Granda, Grandma and Aunt Mary would restrict themselves to tea and sliced orange sandwiches.