When I was a child, it was a family tradition that my mum always got a jigsaw for Christmas.

There were two living rooms in our house. The back room, always referred to as the “Dining Room” (though we actually spent most of our time in there watching telly), and the “Front Room”.

The Front Room was my dad’s domain. Ensconced within, he played classical music – loudly – on his expensive hi-fi and escaped from the rest of us.

Infrequently, the Front Room hosted visitors. But it was at Christmas, after we’d all binged on telly and turkey and trifle, when the Front Room really came into it’s own.

Image from Classic Film via Flickr

Some of my happiest childhood memories are of Christmases in the Front Room.

Three things made those Front Room evenings special. First, we got to request of my dad whatever music we wanted to hear from his record collection – classical stuff, or film themes, or Neil Diamond.

Second, we were allowed a small liqueur  – Tia Maria with a thick layer of cream for my mum and sister, Apricot Brandy for dad, and Grand Marnier or Cointreau for me.

And last, but not least, we did mum’s Christmas jigsaw.

It was always a landscape. With 1000 pieces. We would pore happily over it, eating Black Magic chocolates.

My sister and I reminisced about it before Christmas.

So I bought her a charity shop jigsaw, of the correct design and era, so that we could share our own happy Front Room evenings over the festive season.

But I picked the wrong jigsaw. The jigsaw I chose is the devil’s work.

The pieces are all virtually the same shape. You think you’ve got a bit in, but it turns out to be wrong. There are several large areas of the same thing – yellow Leylandii.

I hate Leylandii more now than I ever thought possible.

My sister has gone. But the jigsaw remains.

There are less than a dozen pieces left to fit in. You would think it would be the work of a few moments to finish it, but no.

Weeks later, I am thoroughly stumped.

I have battled with it bravely, determined not to let it beat me.

But I want my coffee table back. I have grown to hate the Christmas jigsaw. Defeated, I am debating whether to burn it, still unfinished, on the fire.

And guess what? Yesterday I realised…

After all that effort, there’s one piece missing. ♥