“Wait until 2029,” replied the angel. “You’ll have more snowthen than you know what to do with.”
“Well, that’s alright, then,” said Kay. “It’s something tolook forward to.”
“You might not say that when the time comes,” replied theangel. “Have you ever seen that film The Day After Tomorrow?”
“That bad?” asked Kay.
“Yes, that bad,” replied the angel. “Still, don’t worryabout that for now. It’s a long way off, just be prepared when the time comes.As for today, a return trip to 1985, wasn’t it?”
“It certainly was,” replied Kay. “Let’s get going.”
She swiftly found herself back in her childhood room, thesame one she had recently woken up in aged eighteen. It had been summer then,but this time the room was dark, only the ladybird nightlight that hadcomforted her as a small child casting any light into the gloom.
Getting out of bed, she opened the curtains to see that itwas still semi-dark outside. Her bedroom at the back of the house looked outacross the playing fields where she had spent so many happy hours as a kid. Theskies were clear and there was an orange glow on the horizon illuminating thebranches of the trees which stood starkly, devoid of leaves, on the far side ofthe park. Sunrise was still several minutes away.
A single bright star, or maybe a planet, was still visibleglowing brightly just above the trees in the semi-dark skies. It brought tomind the Star of Bethlehem.
She crossed to the switch by the door and flicked it on,lighting up her room which was quite different to the last time she had seenit. Now at an earlier stage of its evolution, the posters on the wall werepin-ups from Smash Hits of Duran Duran and Wham! The centrepiece was of A-ha,triggering memories from Kay of her first crush on Morten Harket.
The room was full of toys and books, which she couldn’tresist browsing through. Enid Blyton featured heavily on her bookshelves andshe remembered how eagerly she had devoured The Famous Five and MaloryTowers series at around this age. She picked one of the books now and beganto flick through it.
Distracted by the unmistakable clink of coffee cups from thekitchen, she rushed downstairs, eager to see her parents. An hour later, aftera family breakfast of bacon and eggs, the three of them were sitting under theChristmas tree opening their presents.
Despite the fact she had been here before, Kay’s presentswere still a surprise to her. She couldn’t remember exactly what presents shehad got in which year, and was able to guess very few from the shapes.
From My Little Pony to Spirograph, each one she openedbrought back a special memory of its own. The delight on her face was possiblygreater than it had been the first time around. It was the sheer nostalgic joyof it all that was filling her with happiness. The look was not lost on herparents, just as happy as she was as they watched their little girl’s facelight up.
While Mum cooked the dinner, she and Dad played Mouse Trap,another new present. It seemed a lot more solid than the modern version she hadbought more recently for her daughter. A lot of things had been redesigned overthe years, thought Kay, and not always for the better. You couldn’t beat theclassic designs.
When Dad headed off to the pub at midday for a Christmasdrink, Kay flicked on the TV to find the bearded face of a youthful-lookingNoel Edmonds grinning back at her from on top of the BT Tower. She wasn’tEdmonds’ biggest fan, but the nostalgia factor was compensation on thisoccasion, particularly when The Krankies appeared.
At 12.30pm her maternal grandparents arrived, two peoplevery dear to her. She had loved visiting their big, old house in Yorkshire as akid, with its roaring, open fireplace and outside toilet which froze over inthe winter. They brought more presents, including Monopoly, which hergrandfather claimed to be world champion at.
Dinner was meant to be at 1pm, but her dad’s tardy returnfrom the pub meant that it was another half an hour before they were allsitting down around the table. The food was delicious, as her mother’s cookingalways had been. She had a special way of making the roast potatoes extracrispy that no one else had ever bettered, including Kay herself. She must askher the secret while she had the chance.
Throughout the meal everyone was joking and laughing, evenat the awful cracker jokes which were one of those things, like air travel,which seemed unchanged by the passing of time. Kay made sure she savoured everymouthful of food and every moment of conversation while she was at the table,appreciating how lucky she was to be seeing these special people again this onelast time.
By a quarter to three, they had all repaired to the livingroom in preparation for The Queen’s Speech. When her father switched the TV backon, she was able to catch the last few minutes of the annual Christmas editionof Top of the Pops, where Wham! were performing “I’m Your Man”.
“Ooh, I like him,” said her grandmother about GeorgeMichael. “Hasn’t he got lovely teeth?”
Kay had liked him, too; more than that, she had adored him.He had been her first crush, at the age of nine. It made no difference when histrue sexuality was revealed many years later – her adoration never faded.
Now she was reminded of another Christmas Day, only a coupleof years ago, when she had learnt of George’s death. It had been at the end ofa year when The Grim Reaper had taken more than his fair share of the pop iconsKay had grown up with. The loss of George had hit her more than any of theothers. It was as if part of her childhood had been taken away forever. Alanhadn’t cared, but then he never did, scoffing at her grief, saying she hadnever met him so why should she care? He never understood anything.
After The Queen’s
