I have a next-door neighbour called Jane.  Plain Jane, is something she is not, I hasten to add.  We moved into our home around ten years ago and Jane moved in a few years later.  I was a little unsure of her at first, as her persona is slightly larger than life and she’s a “says it like it is” kind of person.  Little did I know then that she would become such an important person in my life.  She’s one of those people who would do anything for anyone and would never turn away a cry for help whether from a human or from the animal or bird kingdom.  She is already the proud mum of a tortoise, a chameleon, four chickens and adopted mum to my little dog, Poppy.  

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She maybe short in stature, but she houses the heart of a giant.  She maybe 70 years of age, but has the energy of a 30-year-old.  Her hair is shoulder length, grey and wavy, not dissimilar to Queen’s Brian May and she loves to wear checked trousers and cuddly jumpers, hiding a shapely pair of pins to die for.  

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She’s my go-to person whether it’s for advice or more importantly, giving meds to my little dog whenever she needs worming.  Her real mum, aka myself, is unable to do these things without a full- on opposition from Poppy, but Jane just needs to utter the words, “come with me”, scoops her up and takes her into another room, does what she needs to do in seconds and Poppy comes trotting back to me, tail wagging and wanting to play.

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We live on a road where my husband and I are one of the youngest in our 50’s.  To be precise, I’m still in my 50’s with my husband just turning 60.  Everyone else is over the age of 70 years, I would say.  There are only around 25 houses on our road, with quaint chalet-like bungalows dotted on either side.  But Jane’s bungalow, I call The Hub, like the Health Centre in Rawtenstall used to be called.  They changed their name recently and you’re not allowed to call it the hub anymore so I appropriately, renamed Jane’s home, The Hub.  It’s where all the activities happen!  It’s where we all go to if we run out of eggs, sugar, milk or more recently chicken wire to cover my plant pots to keep away our resident squirrel, who loves to dig up all our freshly potted Spring bulbs.

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As I mentioned earlier, Jane has a big heart of gold.  Every year in December, she hosts an afternoon get together at The Hub for all of the neighbours on our road.  Each one of us receives an invitation to celebrate the coming of Winter and Christmas around the corner.  A hand written note is posted through every neighbour’s letter box, usually by myself, with an RSVP, which actually isn’t needed because everyone always comes.  Our calendars are always kept free around the same time each year so without a doubt, this is not an event to be missed. 

It is usually freezing cold outside by then.  Neighbours wrapped up in their furry coats and long woollen overcoats walk hand in hand or link arms to make their annual voyage up the road to The Hub.  Knitted scarves, woolly hats to keep their heads and ears warm and gloves and mittens lined in warm faux fur for their frozen hands.  Excitement clearly written all over their faces as they approach their destination.  

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As the weather gets colder, they haven’t been able to chat to their fellow neighbours over the garden fence so this is a chance to reconnect, socialise and get the inside information on what new ailments have appeared, what the grandchildren are up to or what a good job the new cleaner is doing.  

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As soon as the doorbell rings at the entrance to The Hub, Jane is there to give each neighbour a warm welcome, their coats taken and hung in the hall, whilst the menu of the afternoon is offered.  “Mulled wine, tea or coffee?  Mince pie, Christmas cake or chocolate Yule log?  With or without cream?” 

The living room is so warm and cosy, the hum of chatter and laughter in the air, neighbours together with our varying ages from 50 years old to over 90 years young.  The sofa is full, along with the chairs, each one occupied with a toasty bottom of a neighbour and spare seating from the garage has been brought in for the occasion.  From my view point, my back resting comfortably against a padded fluffy cushion, I look around at the smiling, happy faces.  Such a heartwarming sight.   A wood burner set amidst the fireplace, embers glowing scarlet red and leaving a golden orange sheen on our faces.  The sweet sound of crackling wood making the odd person jump every now and then. 

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Warmth and contentment flow through our veins.  Animated faces glow in conversation.  Bernard is talking to Sheila, Shirley is talking to Karl.  Each of them having chosen the mulled wine option.  I can see the steam swirling from the tops of their wine glasses.  Deep burgundy red wine with the scent of oranges and cloves reaching my nostrils, a cinnamon stick swimming around in the hot liquid.  Kath is talking to Colin, Carol is talking to Clare.  Each of them holding a small saucer with a homemade mince pie or a piece of Jane’s homemade Christmas cake.  That’s something else she’s good at.  Baking her Christmas cake weeks earlier, she laces it with more than enough Brandy to ensure even the dullest of senses can taste it.  

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The Christmas tree is standing proud in the corner of her living room, decorated to the brim with sentimental trinkets that Jane’s young grandsons have made for her year after year.  She doesn’t have the heart to throw any of them away as each one is as precious as the first.  It’s a tree emblazoned with colour.  Bright reds, vivid greens and electric blues to name a few.  All set on a background of white frosted branches with multi-coloured lights slowly dancing to a rhythm. 

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Music is playing quietly in the background, not so loud so you can’t hear each other speak but just loud enough to fill in the gaps.  Is that Elvis Presley’s Winter Wonderland or Bing Crosby’s White Christmas I can hear?  

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Chatting, laughter, the clinking of glasses, the fragrance of nutmeg and gingerbread emanating from the winter candles on the fireplace, the air heavy with the smell of burning logs from the wood burner.  Contented happiness together in our small community, just enjoying each other’s company and being together.  Poppy trying to glean any crumbs coming her way and loving being passed around to sit on as many laps as she can, not minding if she misses her afternoon nap.   I think she beat her record last year so more laps to lie on this year, I feel.  And Jane, our Jane, leader and hostess of The Hub, busying herself with making sure that nobody is hungry or thirsty, perfectly winding her way in and out of the seating arrangements, dropping in and out of each conversation with ease and etiquette.

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A few hours of merriment later and it’s time to go home.  What a wonderful afternoon we have all had at The Hub.  And of course, Jane would never let us leave empty handed.  Now that would be unheard of.  On our way out, each of us is given a warm hug at the door and a jar of her jam or chutney, homemade, of course.  Rhubarb and ginger jam, spiced Bramley apple chutney, a reminder of our enjoyable aperitif to the upcoming Winter and Christmas festivities.  

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This has now become our yearly neighbourhood tradition.  An afterglow of an enjoyable afternoon that stays with us for weeks.  A time for us all to look forward to, a time to banish loneliness, to really know we are part of a community, to be kind to one another and well, just have a jolly, good old knees up! 

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