Christmas for me as a child and most of my teenage years always began when my mother carried in from the butcher's van a large cardboard box filled with straw amongst which lay a huge fresh turkey.

With the arrival of the turkey, and when my father trailed out our various coloured bell-shaped Christmas tree lights along the living room floor to test that all the bulbs were working, I felt that Christmas had officially commenced.

Next came the centre piece of the yuletide celebrations - the tree itself - so tall that my father always had to cut a little off the top, but it still always touched the ceiling.

The wonderful aroma of fresh pine as we placed the tree in a wooden barrel that was wrapped around with bright red crepe paper, and the thrill of helping to decorate the tree with the glittering tinsel and different coloured baubles, some of which were very old - including a slightly chipped pink plastic bell.

All of these things we had used many times but we could not bring ourselves to part with any of them.

Amongst the trimmings there was a tatty curved one that had such beautiful colours of green, orange, yellow and red interwoven with each other.

But amongst all these special Christmas memories, one Christmas in 1972 was very special.

I awoke at 5.30 on Christmas morning - it was a Monday. My father heard me creeping downstairs so he got up too. He had bought me a Polaroid camera, which at the time, was quite state-of-the-art.
My father took my picture with me standing alongside the Christmas tree, and within a minute we were able to see the photograph, which to me was such a marvel.

A little later on that morning at about 7.15 I was dressed and sat on the edge of my bed.

I was wearing my paisley-pattern matching shirt and tie and my father took another picture of me.

But, unfortunately, when he peeled off the print this time, it tore almost in half, so I was somewhat decapitated, but my head was restored to my body with the use of sellotape.

Considering it was thirty years ago now, it has held remarkably well.

Later, my older sister, my little niece, our neighbour from down the road and her small son all came in and sat around chatting.

My mother had a bad dose of flu but she could always raise a smile.

Meanwhile, I took some more pictures with my new amazing camera, which I was so proud of - I thought it was the best Christmas present I had ever received.

David Price - Aberbargoed - 2002