I’m dreaming of a 1950s Christmas
LAST Christmas, I decided to give my grandchildren a taste of a Fifties childhood instead of the ‘paper ripping, throw it aside, get the next gift’ approach. As much as I remembered the thrill of opening a parcel, in more austere times we appreciated our few precious items. I bought crepe paper in primary colours and twine to wrap small gifts. In my childhood, the same Christmas paper did the rounds year after year because my family recycled it. I made a ceremony of presenting the gifts to my grandchildren, explaining I was turning back time to when I was a little girl not long after the war, when my parents had little money and goodies were not so readily available. The children were instructed to open their presents carefully and save the paper to be used again. The pencil and novelty rubber were well received, as was a Father Christmas chocolate lolly on a stick. The walnut created a flurry to find nutcrackers, a Ferrero Rocher choco-nut ball was sporting a tiny festive knitted hat, while the traditional orange was a must. Each child also had an individual gift appropriate to their age: a book on flags of the world for nine-year-old Fletcher has come in handy for us all when watching TV quiz shows. The children were bemused when they opened miniature tins containing hand soap. They were used before squeezy bottles. But one year on, thanks to
Greta Thunberg and the rise of eco-awareness among children, plastic pump bottles have been spurned in favour of their soap tins. My grandchildren now baulk at plastic bags, straws and silly give-away plastic toys. It’s been an utter transformation. When asked which of all of his Christmas presents he liked best, three-year-old Max replied: ‘The easy peeler.’ So, satsuma one, electronics nil. Smug Gran! On a trip to Great Yarmouth, I picked up sticks of rock for all the family after watching it being made with the letters going through. I marvelled, the same as I had done when seeing it for the first time aged eight at the seaside. I can tell them that story when I give them this gift. I will also explain I had a mouthful of fillings by the age of ten because we went mad for sweets after the end of rationing and didn’t have knowledgeable parents and wonderful dental care. Yes, I even tell them about the not-so-good-old days! IRENE HEYWOOD JONES,
Pinner, Middlesex.