It didn't drive me daft but it was a very memorable Christmas - 1952. My eldest brother was in the army, doing National service, and had broken his leg very badly - playing football! He was home on sick leave, on crutches after 2 operations. My mum had developed pneumonia and pleurisy and was in hospital, very ill.
My dad was determined to make Christmas as good as he could so he bought a big turkey. It weighed 22 lbs and my 2nd eldest brother, who was cooking it (he was 17) had to saw it in half to get it in the oven. We ate the most miserable Christmas dinner ever, without Mum, and the candles on the Xmas tree (no electric lights then) set fire to the tree on Boxing Day. Dad put it out with a soda syphon.
Anyway, Mum recovered and lived to the age of 91 and my brother, who is now 72, can still play golf 4 times a week despite the steel screws in his leg. Since then, every Christmas has been like a bonus!
