Last year, my husband and I decided it would be best to stay in London and celebrate Christmas at home. It was our daughter Lily’s first Christmas and I knew my family, who live in Hampshire, would be sad to miss it. But it didn’t seem worth the risk. We were worried about passing on COVID-19 but we were also nervous about our family being dobbed in to the authorities for breaking the rules.
I had been excited at the prospect of taking Lily to a children’s Christmas service. My own memories of Christingle services at our local church were happy ones. Part of the appeal was the orange we were each given. It was decorated with a candle, cloves and dolly mixture pinned on with toothpicks. At the front of the church was a manger and there was a treasure hunt around the church to find the figures to fill it. I remember the thrill of finding a shepherd under my pew.
