In the classroom we made lanterns and paper chains, and when our teacher made a post box and smothered it in cotton wool, it looked like something from Father Christmas’s grotto. ‘You can post cards to your friends here, just put their name and class on the envelope,’ she said. So we posted cards; lots of them.
When
word spread that a huge Christmas tree had been put up on Twydall Green, kids
went out of their way to see it after school. Converging around a tree lit up
in coloured bulbs to a height way above us in the darkening sky, some bubbled
with excitement while others, like me, were mesmerised. I marvelled at the
glowing tints cast upon children’s faces and the sparkling reflections in the
eyes of all. Truly, it was a magical place.
Christmas
dinner at school brought more excitement, with everyone hoping to find a sixpence
in their Christmas pudding. Most were out of luck. Then school broke up and everyone went home clutching a report, a
lantern, a calendar and at least one Christmas card, courtesy of Miss Frankland, ensuring no one missed out.
At home, the influence of TV cartoons surfaced one
evening as I sat up in bed singing carols to my little brothers. All went well
until…
‘Once in royal David’s city, stood a…’ Unsure of the words I improvised
with ‘…lonely Huckleberry Hound.’
My
brothers loved it. And so did Mam. Unbeknown to us she was listening outside
the bedroom door. Christmas fever heightened when my brothers and I
attended a couple of Christmas parties. The first, at Rainham Mark Social Club
was a low key affair that earned us a big bar of chocolate and an orange. The
second, in the huge canteen at Dad’s works (Bowaters on the top road), was
beyond anything we could imagine. Once in, we joined the masses in a free for
all for the best party hats. We missed out on the pirate ones with the skull
and crossbones but our disappointment passed when we saw the spread laid out on
the long tables. Forget the sensible grub, the sight of so much pop, biscuits,
cakes, trifle, jelly and ice cream had our eyes popping.
‘And we’ve got a cracker, too!’
‘What… each?’
‘Yes!’
Crackers pulled, jokes laughed at, novelties inspected and discarded, we stuffed ourselves silly and washed it down with generous amounts of pop.
‘And we’ve got a cracker, too!’
‘What… each?’
‘Yes!’
Crackers pulled, jokes laughed at, novelties inspected and discarded, we stuffed ourselves silly and washed it down with generous amounts of pop.
When everyone was full to bursting, we took to the floor for a sing song that included Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Jingle Bells. ‘Oh what fun it is to ride on a one bear open sleigh,’ my brothers and I sang, with much laughter, at a line used by Yogi Bear in TV comic the previous week. There were more laughs to come when we did The Hokey Cokey and The Twist, played by a real group on a real stage. Then, to a great cheer, Father Christmas appeared… and a torturous wait began as presents were handed out, one at a time, in alphabetical order.
Christmas Day
We got up early, whooped and shrieked, opened
our presents and devoured half a selection box for breakfast. Then, after a day
of playing, squabbling and getting told off, we ate dinner and watched a
circus. We always watched the circus.
And the presents we received? Other than a Terry Downes endorsed punch ball and a Rupert annual that had some magic pages that became coloured when wet, I can’t recall, but kids across the land awoke to find: Jacko monkeys; clockwork toys; forts; soldiers; cowboy outfits; nurses outfits; dolls; doll’s houses; coloured pencils; colouring books; bikes; prams; Dinky cars; balls; jigsaws; skipping ropes; bagatelles and typewriters.
And toys like these…
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