When I was a kid in the Sixties I never went to see my friends on Christmas Day.
I suppose on the face of it this doesn't seem that strange. Christmas was a time for family and Christmas Day was its pinnacle when the house was full of my folks, brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, dog and all the gang.
My friends were doing exactly the same anyway with their own families up and down the road.
We were all quarantined in each of our own glittery worlds of family and fantastic new presents.
Yet it does seem odd now I look back. My friends back then were the best I ever had. We all lived in the same street and went mostly to the same first school. We were inseparable, spending nearly every moment together that wasn't demanded elsewhere by grown-ups.
It was an era when we could play out together all year round - in the street, in each others homes, in each others gardens and on the local park - and our parents simply weren't fearful in those days.
So to not see any of my friends on a day devoted to children seems out of kilter somehow.
My friends would have been welcome for sure and I'm pretty certain I would have been if I'd have gone round to theirs. But we just didn't.
This festive isolation lasted two days in total, Christmas Day and Boxing Day after which normal service resumed and I spent time with my mates again and playing together with all the stuff we'd got that year.
How do you remember this readers? mates at Christmas?