It was Christmas Eve, 1995. I was 7 years old, and full of the usual excitement and anticipation every child has at that time of year. The 90s was a great era for toys; it was the decade that saw the release of icons like the Tamagotchi, Furby and Beanie Babies, among others. But the toy of my dreams in 1995 was the Playmobil mansion - a large build-your-own Victorian style house with an open cross-section at the back with rooms to furnish to your heart's content, right down to the cutlery. Playmobil, much like Lego, was all the rage at the time, famous for its collection of model buildings and figurines which you had to build yourself from scratch with the help of a trusty instruction manual (no Youtube tutorials to help us in those days!). Having grown up in London, a Victorian mansion was the kind of place I'd dreamt of living in back then.
Restless with excitement that Christmas night, I found myself unable to sleep. I was of an age where I went along with the 'Father Christmas' story, but suspected Mum & Dad to be his agents of action. So when I heard shuffling around and mumbling downstairs, I couldn't help but wonder what they were up to. So I did what I imagine every kid would do; I snuck downstairs to have a snoop - excuse ready at-hand of course, just in case I was caught in the act! At the base of the stairs, I noticed the door to the living room was ajar and it seemed the action was coming from within. I heard the rustle of papers, clicking of plastic, and huffing and puffing of two tired parents trying to assemble something as discreetly as possible in the dead of night. Leaning closer I saw it; my dream house, coming to life before my very eyes on the living room floor. Feeling the rushing thrill of ecstacy that comes with knowing what waits for you on Christmas morning, I rushed back upstairs, hoping I hadn't been found out and waited to for my magic moment to come.
There were many things that made this toy special for me. First of all, it was a space in which I could dream and imagine - where I could play at being grown-up, having a space arranged in the way I would want it to be and imagining all the possible things that could happen in that space. For a creative child like myself I valued these moments so much. But most of all what I cherished most about that toy was the love and effort I saw put into it by my parents that Christmas night. I look back now, and while I may not have shown it at the time, I feel incredibly grateful to have been in the position to receive such a toy, put together with such care and attention. While the mansion eventually went on to a new home to bring other children joy, I'll forever remember it and everything it represented about my childhood and the magic of dreams coming true at Christmas.