Your nativity memories
Jo McGee remembers a special nativity when her mum – as mums often do – saved the day!
I
t’s that time of year again. All I together now: “Oh little town of Bethlehem…”
What were you… an angel, a shepherd or a king? I bet everyone born in the Fifties and Sixties can remember at least one nativity play they were in, whether they had a starring role or were a back row alsoran like me!
In those black and white days at school, the traditional nativity play was the only drama there was at Christmas. In my memory there was very little variation from year to year and yet all the parents loved it. There was always a lot of dabbing of eyes and ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ in all the right places. An entire school hall of a few hundred people could hold its collective breath while little Johnny, overawed by the occasion, hesitated to say, “No room at the inn!”
My aspiration was always to be the leading lady and get the glory – and the blue frock – that came with being Mary. Or, perhaps even better for the frustrated actress in me, I could make something of that great character part, the Angel Gabriel! However, it never happened and I was destined to be a back row Angel on the road to Bethlehem.
Because everyone understood the story and what was required of them the costumes were easy to source. We Angels had our white first communion dresses and, with a bit of tinsel in our hair, could convince anyone of our celestial credentials. The boys all wore their dressing gowns, with a tea towel and alice band on their heads. Or, if they were a King, they had a crown and cardboard cutouts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. These words could’ve meant anything – there wasn’t much call for such exotics in the Sixties industrial north west!
My best friend at school, Jean, also an Angel, had five brothers and they had ‘the nativity dressing gown’ that only ever came out of the cupboard once a year. She still remembers the mad scramble every December to find the wretched thing and put it through the wash, making sure it still fitted whichever boy needed it for his performance. There was a bit of a panic one year when her smallest brother was chosen to play a King in the infant play while her next brother was a shepherd in the junior play on the same day! There was even talk of re-scheduling the performances but the infant teacher saved the day and stepped in with another costume.
‘By the time my sister and I were growing up, nativities were beginning to “go mod”’
Since he was playing a King, she managed to cleverly adapt some regallooking curtains!
By the time my sister and I were growing up, nativities were beginning to ‘go mod’. My mum well remembers the day our neighbour turned up on our doorstep asking if we had a white leotard, white tights, white pumps, a white bonnet or cap and white face paint to lend her little boy. Mum was puzzled. “What part was he playing?”
“Oh it’s a play about a Christmas pudding – and he’s the suet!”