The impression is of coziness and warmth, colour, richness, food; happiness and a sense of total fulfilment - complete happiness. Of being given everything I could imagine.
The last Christmas is slightly clearer. I can recall being forbidden to go into the garage for a couple of weeks before the date - and on Christmas morning I discovered why. My Daddy had made me a trainset, the track and transformer fixed onto a large piece of hardboard - with a circuit and siding; the beautiful train illustrated above, with coaches and trucks.
This was certainly the most lavish present of my childhood; and it survived for many years - I still have the battered remains of the train itself. It was also perfectly timed, in that I was in the midst of a craze on steam engines - a few of which were still running at that time: I had the special treat of a ride on one of them shortly beforehand, and recall initially being terrified by the size, noise and smoke of its approach to the platform.
A particular favourite were the books (and recordings of books) by the Rev W Awdrey, such as the following, which I remember well (and I still posses the original and very scratchy EP):
Christmas in Devon is merely the epitome of a whole set of magical memories - memories of the primal state of Men - of Original Participation; that is, a world in which I was immersed and to which I wholly belonged.
A world which lacked the existential fear that soon after arrived, when I arrived in a new and strange house and school, then soon after began to realise there was a thing called death.