The run-up to Christmas – 1950s style
... a personal look at Black Country life
IT’S probably a sign of ageing – but Christmas comes round much sooner these days! Surveys have revealed some start thinking about it as early as August. All I can say is they obviously didn’t survey our household.
Every year I’m last minute – which I put down to being a child of the late 1950s – when the run-up to Christmas seemed far less pressured than today. And we always got there in the end.
In 1960 I was six – as a new decade beckoned. Yet, for my parents’ generation, memories of the Second World War still lingered. Rationing had grown even worse after the war, not ending until 1954.
By the following year, things were looking up. But while politicians told the public they’d “never had it so good”, long years of wartime austerity meant my parents’ generation still clung to wartime “make do and mend” values.
Countless homes still had outside loos, and coal fires as the only heating. You had to be hardy growing up in the ’50s and ’60s. Especially in winter, when smog choked the cities – and frost painted the insides of your windows. Just getting out of bed needed heroic resolve. Likewise, washing in unheated bathrooms!
For most families, mod cons were the stuff of Hollywood movies – except for one newcomer, steadily invading a corner of our living rooms. Little did we know it, but television would change our lives and perceptions forever. And, when commercial TV arrived in the late ’50s, the adverts made us vaguely dissatisfied with our everyday lives. Suddenly, or so it seemed, we yearned for the products and glossy “lifestyles” we saw on the box. Moving from the 1950s to the ’60s was like changing from black and white film to Technicolor.
As a youngster I was blissfully unaware of this. I can barely remember late 1950s telly. But by the 1960s, pre-christmas commercials were creating a new phenomenon – kids’ pester power. Before long, we began demanding more than the traditional wooden toys, books, nuts and oranges. Christmas stockings were relegated to the second division, now mere receptacles for “stocking fillers” as roomier pillowcases zoomed to the first division.
Spending
But in 1960 I was still young enough – and my parents wise enough – not to succumb to the spending fest Christmas was rapidly becoming. That’s not to say they didn’t treat us, as we always had plenty in our pillowcases. They just didn’t make daft promises. In any case, it was all down to Father Christmas – and our behaviour. Above all, it preserved the magic elements of surprise – and wonder.
The run up to Christmas was definitely more leisurely. Cards weren’t sent or given until much nearer Christmas. And we never put the decorations up until a day or so before Xmas Eve.
We always had a real Christmas tree which Dad brought home from the market. The smell of fresh pine filled the house as he put the tree in a large bucket of damp earth from the garden. Then there was the ritual of decorating the tree – everyone having a say about what went where, and taking turns.
Our tree decorations lived in the loft the rest of the year. Even though we knew each trinket by heart, when we unpacked them, it was still like opening buried treasure. These days, we’re encouraged to buy new decorations every Christmas, depending on current decor trends. I don’t remember us ever buying new tree decorations, let alone an artificial tree. Our Christmas fairy was definitely well past her sell by date, but we hadn’t the heart to force her into retirement. Many of our glass baubles were old and fragile, passed down through the family.
Next came the tricky business of getting the tree lights to work, a job Dad dreaded – although he acted like he enjoyed the challenge. He’d spend hours fiddling with cables, hunting for spare bulbs to replace faulty ones. At last came the big switch on – often accompanied by a mini explosion as another bulb expired.
We also had an old set of metal candle holders, from less health and safety conscious days when they actually put lighted candles on the tree. These also went on, but we never lit the candles, just in case! Thankfully, there was no chance of us succumbing to new-fangled decorating trends, like artificial snow. Which is just as well considering much of it contained asbestos; a fact I only discovered as I was writing this article. So, yes, I’m glad we didn’t pander to the latest fashions back then.
When it came to buying festive food, there was no supermarket dash, back then. The nearest we had to a supermarket was our local Co-op, which had only just moved with the times by becoming a “selfserve” store. Before this momentous change, you went up to the counter and the manager got the goods for you, often using a long grabbing pole to reach higher shelves. Our new look Co-op displayed its goods on shelves down the middle of the small store, separated by two narrow aisles.
At first, shopping actually took longer – as noone knew where to find what they wanted. There was still just the one till on the same counter, operated by the same store manager. Happily, we still had the same Co-op number earning us points towards the “divi”. We also discovered exciting new products we’d seen on the telly – like freeze-dried “Surprise Peas” and Vesta ready meals.
For most of our Christmas food we went to the market or local greengrocers, bakers and grocery stores. Dad always went to Birmingham Market for our Christmas cockerel.
Other meat, sausages and pies came from the local butchers – which still had sawdust on the floor. Something I found bewildering as a youngster! There were always dogs hanging around outside, hoping for bones and scraps.
Fruit
Mince pies, Christmas cake and pudding were home-made, often courtesy of Nan. In the last days before Christmas, the sideboard boasted a glass bowl bursting with fruit. Packets of dried dates and figs were mandatory, as were pomegranates. I was always fascinated by these exotic fruits, but found the pips far too fiddly. We kids preferred the fragrant lumps of Turkish Delight, smothered in icing sugar.
Walnuts and brazil nuts also appeared, as if by magic. Sadly, it was a standing joke in our family as we never seemed to have a nutcracker that was up to the job. The nuts were either smashed to smithereens or you dislocated your thumb trying to break the shells!
As the big day got closer, Dad made sure stocks of beer and liqueurs were got in. Beers were delivered by Davenports and the “pop man” brought our supplies of dandelion and burdock and ice cream soda. We also bought plenty of Vimto and Tango.
For the ladies, we had cherry and apricot brandy, cream sherry – often bought “from the wood” at the local outdoor.
Of course, there was also advocaat and Babycham – and we kids looked forward to sipping a very diluted snowball on Christmas Day.
Dusting and cleaning went on for days. When everything was deemed spic and span, we kids set to making paper chains and threading garlands of peanuts to drape over the fireplace. The house was filled with a heady mix of aromas, notes of pine, cinnamon and nutmeg – mingled with glue.
And, when we’d finished studding cloves into sweet clementines – it really smelled like Christmas.
Nostalgia
If you fancy stepping back in time to see how our forebears prepared for Christmas, there are plenty of themed events at the Black Country Living Museum. This month, on: 8, 9, 15, 16, 19–21 and 22–24 December, you can experience a traditional Black Country “Christmas in the Home”. No advance booking required.
On the same dates youngsters can also enjoy Santa Hunts, but advance booking is required – as is it is for the December 15 Festive Fun Day at the Locksmith’s House, in Willenhall.
Visit the website at: www.bclm.co.uk or ring 0121 557 9643 for more details.