A long time ago, in Kinross-shire in the land of the Scots, on Christmas day, a child was born to Jess and Tam....no, not in a stable but in a farmhouse, slap bang in the middle of the day while Jess was serving the midday meal to a gang of men (and a couple of hardy women) who were working on the travelling threshing mill which, as was his custom, Tam had booked to come to the farm on 25th December--no holidays then!- to thresh the grain from the sheaves in the cornstacks. The midwife was summoned and the men finished their meal and went back to work. The child wasn't actually born in the kitchen, but you know what I mean. It was a close thing!
There were no shepherds out in the fields (not a sheep area) or wise men/Kings who came visiting as this was wartime and fuel was rationed, as was nearly everything else, but there was an Italian prisoner of war, who lived with the couple, and he brought his handmade wooden gifts which were much enjoyed, but over the ensuing years, they disappeared. How they all wished, in later years, that they had looked after them better as they may well have been worth quite a bit of money today!