MARK SPARROW COLUMN: THIS Christmas lark is all a bit much. What with stuffing the presents, wrapping the turkey, baking the tree and dressing the mince pies

Hang on! I think I got that the wrong way round. But that's the trouble when you're an adult Christmas is all such a rush. You've got to work twice as hard the week before Christmas just to get everything out the way so you can take a few days off.

Ah... but Christmas when you were a child was different. The Bath I remember was a truly magical place. I swear it was colder in those days and I can still remember lying in bed, late on Christmas Eve, with the light from the street lamps filtering through the curtains. I would lie watching the beams of light, desperately waiting for the morning to come. But I was too excited to sleep even though I should have been so tired.

Christmas Eve was always exciting because each year I would go out in the evening with the Elizabethan Recorder Group, which was conducted in those days by a lovely old gent by the name of Mr Jerome. We would tour the pubs and clubs of Bath, playing Christmas carols and festive tunes for the revellers.

My job was to go amongst the punters with a large top hat, collecting money for the Samaritans. It was the best night of the year. I lost count of the number of men propping up the bars all tired and emotional some of them with tears streaming down their faces as they watched and listened to the kids playing Silent Night.

Back in those days I would collect so much money the hat had to be regularly emptied out into a large bucket. Occasionally we'd even get a pound note in the hat and that was a lot in those days.

After the tour of Bath, it was back home for mince pies and a warm in front of the fire. It's funny, but if you asked me to remember a single present from my childhood Christmases, I'd be stumped. But if you asked me to recall those Christmas memories then it's as though it was yesterday.

Christmas Day was always the same opening presents in the company of a huge tin of biscuits. My mother always put on a record by of all people Gene Autry. It was the same record every year, and it's still here somewhere. I can't listen to it at Christmas without a lump coming into my throat as the old "singing cowboy" warbles his way through Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer and Here Comes Santa Claus.

Lunch was a late turkey feast, and in the evening it was open house for any of our relatives who chose to call by. To be honest, I can't really remember watching the TV. We were all too busy having fun.

The next day was the same every year too: round to my grandmother's for her traditional Boxing Day lunch. I don't know if anyone still has traditional Boxing Day lunches of cold turkey, bubble and squeak and various pickles but when I was a boy that was what everyone seemed to eat the day after Christmas. Perhaps they still do.

I can remember those lunches as a game of avoiding being kissed to death by elderly aunts as they swapped their gifts of hankies and Brut 33 for a peck on the cheek. Ah... happy days.

These days my family is no longer quite so big. Despite coming from two families with six uncles and aunts on each side we've moved away and grown apart. But nonetheless, this Christmas I can guarantee that my thoughts will return to those times past and there'll be a happy glow in my heart that only Christmas can provide.

I hope your memories are as happy as mine.

Merry Christmas.

and finally . .

IT WAS Christmas Eve and the entire house was decorated with lights and tinsel. It was a magical sight. The little boy turned to his father and asked: "Dad, how did the fairy get on top of the Christmas tree?"

"You want to know how the fairy got on top of the Christmas tree? I'll tell you a story, son. Once upon a time there was a fairy who was helping Santa Claus with the preparations for Christmas. She was helping to decorate Santa's grotto but Santa couldn't be bothered. He was in a bad mood and had been let down by the reindeer. Mrs Claus was giving him trouble and he'd been drinking rather heavily. The last thing he was really interested in was decorating the grotto. However, the fairy was a keen little fairy and wanted everything to look just as pretty as possible."

"What shall I do with this gold tinsel, Santa?" asked the fairy.

"Oh I don't know," growled Santa. "And I don't care either."

Two minutes later the fairy appeared with a box of beautiful silver balls.

"What should I do with these beautiful silver balls?" asked the fairy.

"How should I know?" snarled Santa. "Do what you like with them."

Two minutes later the fairy came back with a Christmas tree.

"What shall I do with this Christmas tree?" she asked.

This was too much for Santa. "As far as I'm concerned," he snapped, "you can stick it..."

"And that, son, is how the fairy got on top of the Christmas tree."