The Pepperstock Hills National Park stretched from the bare, and often barren crags of Oxley Ridge in the North to the dense wooded southern slopes on the fringe of the Finchbottom Vale and from Quarry Hill, and the Pits in the West to Pepperstock Bay in the East.
It is an area of stark contrasts and attracted a variety of visitors.
The quarry hill side of the park to the west, as the name suggests, was heavily Quarried over several hundred years, though more extensively during the industrial revolution, the Quarries had been un-worked for over fifty years and nature had reclaimed them and former pits had become lakes and were very popular with anglers and the sparse shrubbery and woodland made it popular spot with courting couples whereas the northern crags and fells were popular with climbers and more hardy folk.
To the south and east was an extensive tract of magnificent mixed forestry and was rivalled only by the ancient woodland of the Dancingdean Forest.
One of the parks many villages was Springwater which was where Graham Reynolds had lived for all 63 years of his life, in fact he’d lived his entire life in the same house, and it had never once occurred to him that he should live anywhere else.
He was born in the late fifties and had few recollections of that austere decade, almost all his earliest memories were from the brasher, brighter and less restrained sixties.
But the earliest memories he did have were about Christmas and in the Reynolds household Christmas began on St Andrew’s Day, November 30th.
As a result of his awareness of the time, coming on the cusp of the decades, his earliest memories of Christmas were of a bright and sparkly time when paper chains and the watery coloured paper stars, bells and balls were being replaced by dazzling foil and tinsel.
Which included the Silver Tinsel Christmas Tree, when he looked back it was a quite unspectacular specimen of a tree compared to what’s on offer in the 21st century, but he loved it.
It stood less than 5 feet tall with its fold down tinsel covered wire branches, tipped with red beads to symbolize berries.
However, by the time his Dad had worked his not inconsiderable Christmas magic and covered it with every size, shape and shade of bauble, glass birds with feathered tails, lantern lights, strands of brightly coloured tinsel, foil covered chocolate treats and tiny crackers lain on the branches, it was transformed and was absolutely stunning.
It was the only tree he’d ever known until his teenage years came to an end, when in the mid-seventies he suggested that they have a real tree just for a change.
He would never have suggested it if he had realized for a second that it would signal the death knell of the Silver Tinsel Tree.
Because the following year it was replaced by a green plastic tree much more akin to those of today.
After his Dad died a few years later the task of decorating the tree fell to him and he instantly realized, sadly, that he hadn’t inherited his father’s tree dressing skill and was never able to equal him.
He came very close one year, in 1983 it was, but he concluded in the end that he merely flattered to deceive.
The task of tree dresser fell to his wife Evelyn which she performed admirably for 36 years, and she made a far better fist of it than Graham ever could.
However, whether she possessed the necessary skill to transform a Silver Tinsel Tree into something stunning he would never know, as she passed away in October.
“What I would give to watch you dress the tree again my darling” he said as he stared at the naked branches “and then hold you in my arms beside it”
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