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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