When I was a child, I stayed at my paternal Grandma's house during the christmas holidays. We would stay for what seemed like ages, and her house was bigger than I'd ever seen, with small nooks and crannies perfect for hide and seek. It was a bungalow with spare rooms in the attic (where we'd sleep) and a massive room at the front of the house. In this room was a beautiful organ, electric and buzzing with energy. This was the heart of the front room.

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When I stayed with Grandma, I'd get certain luxuries that I couldn't receive at home. Some were treats, like chocolate cereal in the mornings, and gingerbread biscuits that were always on the counter to enjoy. Some were different, for example I could go into the arts room and paint whenever I wanted to. I could stay in one of the rooms for hours and never be found. These weren't just Christmas time treats either, even without the red and gold twinkling Christmas trees in every room, we would still get special treatment when we visited.

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Most of my cousins were older boys who laughed and rolled their eyes when I suggested what we could do. A sister of theirs was Lucy, her energy met mine and when everyone else thought we were just excitable little girls. We knew were going to create the best concert ever!

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Making tickets in the front room, and handing them out to the same guests who saw them every year became a Christmas tradition. We would ask Grandma when lunch would be ready and practice singing and dancing and playing the organ as loudly as possible. On such holidays I became free, unjudged by anyone. To me, these holidays were a break from the scheduled daily life of home and the worry of being told off. Perhaps if I didn't have these experiences at Grandma's I wouldn't be as creative as I am now. For this I'd like to thank her. My wish is for other people to experience Grandma's Front Room as a gateway to the world of imagination and childhood.

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- Passage from my Masters Research Contexts Essay 2025