Christmas, a time when the world sparkles with lights, goodwill, and the promise of togetherness, means something unique to each of us. For some, it’s a time to be selfless and help those in need; for others, it’s all about family and connection. In this festive article, we unwrap four unique true-life tales that capture the essence of Christmas
A Beacon Of Unity
Benjie Goodhart, Brighton
Christmas is never so magical as when you’re a child. The stockings, the presents, the food, the sweets, the tree, the telly, and the rarity of “Can I stay up a bit later, pleeeeease” actually being answered in the affirmative. But as a child, I would venture that my Christmases were more magical than most, thanks to a deeply romantic and picturesque tradition.
I grew up in Campden Hill Square, a beautiful Victorian square in London’s Notting Hill Gate. On Christmas Eve, when it got dark, every house in the square would turn off its lights and place rows of candles in all the front-facing windows. Over the next few hours, people would come from the surrounding environs to quietly walk around the square, taking in a scene that could have been from the 19th century were it not for the Peugeot 504 sitting outside our house, and the sound of the 88 bus going past the end of our road.
The origins of the tradition have been lost in the mists of time, though it seems to have started in the 1920s. One story is that a Jewish orphanage in the square placed candles in its windows on Christmas Eve, only to have the windows broken by antisemitic vandals. Thereafter, the other houses all put candles in their windows so the vandals couldn’t identify the Jewish house. It is romantic, but apocryphal—one can only hope that it’s true.
What was undoubtedly true was that the tradition was taken very seriously by local residents. The only years that the display didn’t take place were during the Blackout in the Second World War, and the fire brigade’s strike of 1977. And woe betide the household that didn’t take part. Even if you were due to be on holiday, it was considered your neighbourly duty to arrange for a surrogate to light your candles.
The whole affair was a cause of great excitement for my sisters and I—not least because my parents threw an enormous party every Christmas Eve. Up to 100 guests would pitch up, walk the square marvelling at the scene, before descending on our house for the
