Preparations for Christmas in Cawston in the 1950’s and
1960’s started just after Bonfire night. This was the time when the small
family-owned business in the village began to decorate their shop windows.
From week to week stockings for children filled with mars bars, bounties
and crunchies as well as other festive items appeared between boxes of
biscuits and the multi-coloured decorations in the shop windows. For the
local shops Christmas was the largest annual economic
stimulus.
It was also the time of year when
many people in Cawston were asking: “What are you doing for Xmas” or “What
do you want for Christmas?” In those days it was tradition to spend
Christmas with the family. I never heard of anyone in the village flying to
the Canary Isles.
On certain nights in December the
countryside around Cawston seemed to take on distinct a quality of its own,
especially when the gloomy light of the full moon was visible. The dampness
of November or December frequently caused by fog coming from the coast often
left considerable moisture in the empty arable fields. There were a few
years in the 1950’s and 1960’s when the hedgerows, trees and the roofs of
cottages and houses were covered with a thick layer of shining white frost
in the sunlight. Sometimes when the skies were clear in the evenings you
could see several bright stars over the horizon.
I also recall some unusual cries in
the quietness of the late evenings and was told that these were the cries of
foxes in the surrounding fields and woods.
Frequently just before Christmas my
mother would eagerly peer out of the kitchen
window, step outside and standing in front of the old mill she would scan
the skies for a change in the wind to the north or east, to see if snow was
coming our way. She would often say to herself: “I wonder if this
will be a white Christmas”. To Top
Following the custom of decorating a
pine tree, introduced to Britain by Price Albert (husband of Queen Victoria)
in the 1840’s, most families living in Cawston in the 1950’s and 1960’s
decorated a real Christmas fir tree in their homes. I do not recall any
artificial Christmas trees in the village in the 1950’s but remember seeing
some decorated in the larger stores at Norwich.
During the 1950’s everyone was going
through a nostalgic time. It was as if people who had survived the war
needed the security of a festive Christmas, which remained unchanged in a
changing world. The Christmas tree, an important symbol to set them back on
their feet again, was the centrepiece of the household at Christmas and
admired and adored by all. The tree was not only a symbol of the living
Christmas spirit but also brought into their home the pleasant fragrance of
the woods around Cawston.
A few days before Christmas my
father would bring home the Christmas tree in his van. It was always a
freshly cut tree as you could smell the aroma from the woods. The tree was
mounted and secured in a large pot filled with moist sand. My brother and I
then started to decorate the tree lightly with colourful glass balls, bells
and birds. We also used silver and gold tinsel which according to the German
legend, a poor woman's tree was once covered with spider webs and this
saddened the infant Christ so much that he turned the webs into silver
tinsel. There were, incidentally, no paper shredders in those day to run
through aluminium foil to make tinsel.
Small
Christmas crackers wrapped in shiny paper were then laid along the branches
of the tree. On top of the tree we mounted a beautiful golden haired angel
which in the late 1960’s suffered from old age as it fell off and broke.
We bought our glass ornament
decorations from the local shops or from Woolworths in Norwich. Here we
also purchased large packets of wrapped chocolate items shaped like bells,
stars, angels etc. that were made for hanging on Christmas trees. The shops
in Cawston also sold a wide selection of Christmas items.
In the 1950’s hardly anyone used the newly invented electric or fairy
lights. Some years we had real wax candles on our Christmas tree which were
fixed by using secure holders that were fastened to the thicker branches and
trigs. It was always a highlight on the evening of Christmas Day when the
candles were lit by our parent. The burning candles were like stars that
often illuminated the dark skies around Cawston in the winter months. The
candles were lit again on Boxing Day, St. Stephen’s Day, commemorating the
first Christian martyr Stephen who was stoned to death for his religious
beliefs in 35 AD. With a tree glittering in the light of candles you
experienced the real Christmas and for our parents, these were the nostalgic
moments of former years.
In those days we ignored fashion and
trends and used our own well loved tree decorations year after year. After
Christmas they were stored carefully in a cardboard box. The only tree
decorations we had to replenish were the thin wax candles and the
various-shaped chocolate decorations which disappeared off the tree one by
one. To Top
Pagans had traditionally decorated their homes with
holly, ivy
and mistletoe to symbolise winter.
Multi-coloured paper Christmas
garlands either bought or self-made were popular in the 1950’s and 1960’s .
They were put across the living room from wall to wall. We also hung up
balloons in the corner of each room. I recall in particular the colourful
paper lanterns that were hung up at the windows of many houses in the
village. Since most of the houses and cottages in Cawston at that time were
not draught-proof, the paper lanterns swayed naturally backwards and
forwards in the cold air that passed through the windows.
A lot of our decorations were still
of a 'home-made' variety. We spent hours at school or at home making
snowflakes and stars from cardboard or thick paper. At Cawston Primary
School I recall the girls using small beads to make decorations. To make
our own decorations we collected long-lasting evergreens - conifers such as
pine branches and glossy-leafed plants such as holly and gardenia. If
berries were available such as rose hips, we collected these from the hedges
together with multi-coloured creepers e.g. ivy to give some colour to our
decorations. They were all available in winter along the hedgerows in
Cawston.
a) Holly Around Cawston, and especially Haveringland, there was an abundance ofholly trees, the leaves of which symbolise the crown of thorns of Christ
and his drops of blood are symbolised by the red berries. We collected
branches of hollyand painted the leaves with gold or silver paint
and covered them with glitter. Occasionally we would find a holly bush full
with red berries. Druids believed the holly (or ilex) was sacred. In more
recent times the sharply pointed leaves symbolise the thorns in Christ’s
crown and the red berries his blood.
I remember being told that holly is
a man's plant and is believed to bring good luck and protection to men while
ivy brings the same to women. My grandfather told me that it is a common
saying that the person who bring the first branch of holly into the home in
December will wear the pants in the household for the coming year. He
always made sure that he brought the first twig of holly into his house at
the Ratcatchers Row.
Just after my Aunt Barbara became
acquainted with Freddie Barwick (photo on the right) from Aylsham he
surprised the entire family one year when he brought us some of twigs of
holly bearing yellow berries which none of us had ever seen before. After
Christmas I planted some of these berries in a pot and a few year later when
one of them was several inches high I re-planted it in the back garden, near
the door of my grandfather’s and grandmother’s (Cecil and Bessie Dunn) new
bungalow Rodwell Corner, Eastgate.
Just like the holly, we also
collected various kinds of ivy, a symbol of eternal life, and painted the
leaves gold and silver. I
remember there were lots of ivy creeping along the ground and climbing
around the old trees and houses standing at the old Ratcatchers Row.
We painted holly and ivy which we
was then used to decorate mirrors and pictures and to help make a attractive
arrangement in vases at Christmas.
If mistletoe, a sacred plant
of the Druids, was not always available from the local trees we always
bought a piece from either the
shops
in the village or from Norwich market. One year just before Christmas when
I was visiting my grandparents, who then lived at the Ratcatchers Row, I was
sitting in the kitchen with my grandmother and two neighbours, Kate and
Alfred Betts, when my grandfather returned home from work. I remember on
this occasion that Alfred sat there cleaning his leather belt that had
become shabby in appearance by rubbing the white of an egg over it that my
grandmother had prepared. My grandfather came into the kitchen carrying a
big bunch of mistletoe. “There you are Alfred, have some of that mistletoe
and give your missus a kiss”, he said spontaneously in his broad Norfolk
accent. Kate was sipping her tea and blushed while my grandmother promptly
said, “You leave Kate alone, you dirty old man.” My grandfather then said
jokingly, “Now it’s your turn to kiss me under the mistletoe. If you don’t
want to kiss me, I will go and see Winnie to get my kiss.” (Winnie lived by
herself near the water pump just along the Ratcatcher’s Row). Everyone
laughed.
I remember one year in the 1950’s
when gypsies appeared at the Ratcatchers Row going from house to house
selling small pieces of mistletoe. I was visiting Mrs. Monsey at the time
and the gypsies told her that mistletoe would bring her good fortune in the
new year. Although I do not recall anyone at the Ratcatchers Row enjoying
good fortune the following year, this did confirm that these gypsies, who
lived at Haveringland caravan site, had good connections with Romania as
this is a strong Romanian belief. From their unusual dress it was clear
that they lived a nomadic way of life but I cannot say whether they were
ethnic gypsies or not. They came for a few years in the 1950’s both in
summer and winter selling linen pegs, hand-knitted socks etc., often with
their children, and appeared to be pleasant and law-abiding citizens.
I recall that almost every home in
Cawston had mistletoe hanging in the living room at Christmas and I think
that most people upheld the kissing tradition. A long time ago, people hung
mistletoe over their doorways because they believed it kept away evil
spirits. I remember being told that the more berries there are on the
mistletoe the more kissing is possible. As an uncle of mine reminded us one
Christmas: every kiss means a berry picked and when the berries have all
gone the kissing must stop.
My grandfather once told me that some
farmers in Cawston before World War II would give some mistletoe to the
first cow that calved in the new year as this would bring good luck to the
whole herd. I think that this custom has now died out.
Being a parasitic plant that grows
on the branches of trees, after Christmas many of us grafted a piece of
mistletoe onto one of the trees growing in our garden. Mine always died in
early spring.
In the 1950’s many people recited:
'Pick a berry off the mistletoe
For every kiss that's given.
When the berries have all gone
There's an end to kissing.'
The
invention of the Christmas card in 1843 by Henry Cole was intended to reduce
letter writing at Christmas. This was indeed the case a hundred or so years
later when our parents bought boxes of 12 of 24 mixed Christmas card from
the local shop and started writing them to friends and relatives who they
had not seen for a long time. I remember that we always helped select the
most appropriate card for the right relative or friend of the family. It
was always a multi-hour chore to write the cards and address the envelopes.
Some of the Christmas greetings, especially to those who lived in the
vicinity were brief, others were personalised and a few contained a summary
of the year’s activities. For us, Christmas was
the ideal time to make an additional effort to get in touch with Uncle
Reggie and Aunt Tee who lived in Bromley, Kent and who we had not seen
for many years. The annual Christmas card was the only regular contact that
kept our long distance friendships alive. This was, however, not always the
case as I remember my mother saying one year in
early December that “this woman is off my Christmas card list this year” as
she had fallen out with her at Beerhouse farm.
Part of the
magic of Christmas was going to the front door to see what cards had been
delivered by the postman. It was always a delight
when the postman came with the Christmas post. There was a morning and
afternoon delivery and it was not until I was 18 when I worked for a week in
the pre-Christmas period as a postman doing the Eastgate round that I
realised how much activity there is in a sub post office. Not only did I
have to do two post rounds in the cold weather using the post office bicycle
but the letters and parcels had to be sorted as early as 5.30 in the
morning.
The Christmas
cards we received were displayed around the house as part of the Christmas
decoration. Traditional motifs
included candles, winter landscapes holly and snowmen. Only a few people
sent humorous cards and in those days and not so many cards were sold to
raise money for charities.
Some people, and one was Mrs. Medlar, a
school teacher at Cawston School in the 1950’s, never allowed us to use the
shortened form “Xmas” for “Christmas” on the Christmas cards we made in her
class. She said that only lazy people use this word like the stores at
Norwich when they advertise their Xmas sales directly after Christmas. To Top
The custom of singing Christmas
carols, defined as a festive song of rejoicing, is said to have come from 13th.
century Italy where St. Francis of Assisi led songs of praise. Carolling in
England goes back to the Middle Ages when beggars, seeking food, drink or
money would wander the streets singing holiday songs. Following these
traditions there were lots of groups of carol singers around Cawston in the
1950’s who would come at about tea time. The carol singers went from house
to house singing their Christmas carols reminding us that the special day of
celebration was not far off. As a child it was exciting when the carol
singers came. When they started to sing, we were all silent and just
listened. After they had sung the Bohemian carol “Good King Wenceslas” or
"Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" there was a gentle
knock at the door and silence as they stood waiting for a few pence for
charity.
As it was considered to bring very
bad luck to send carollers away empty-handed we always gave them some coins
and offer them a mince pie if they had already been baked. I remember on
one occasion that one carol singer, a small boy, told my mother they had
already eaten enough mince pies and preferred a bar of chocolate.
I also remember Kate Betts at the
Ratcatchers Row gladly welcoming carol singers but never appreciating it if
they came too early in the Christmas season as she said that this would
bring bad luck.
I once heard in Cawston that
centuries ago carol singers started singing carols and ringing bells on the
villagers doorsteps as early as 4 am on Christmas morning. This was
apparently tradition in many villages but I am sure that this would not have
been appreciated in the 1950’s or 1960’s.
My uncle Reggie married my new Aunt
Tess in the late 1940’s. They lived along the Eastgate Road not far from
the old Ratcatchers Row until 1953. Aunt Tess enjoyed singing, especially
at Christmas and I shall never forget how she would literally sing “Rudolf
the Red-Nosed Reindeer” at me in her high-pitched soprano voice with
a distinctive Manchester accent. I often sat there with my cousin Frankie,
Aunt Tess’ son, when Aunt Tess would suddenly roar out with a Christmas
song. When we showed no interest in “Rudolf the Red-nodes Reindeer” she
would sing “Jingle Bells”, then run to the kitchen and fetch her little bell
that she would ring to accompany her. What a nightmare and torment for us
both as we were more interested in playing with the bell than listening to
her soprano voice.
I
remember my Aunt Barbara frequently playing “White Christmas” on her 78 rpm
gramophone record player. The needle had to be changed often and I was glad
when she ran out of new needles. Everyone loved this new Christmas song
that gained enormous popularity in the 1950’s. Needless to say, I am now
inclined to turn off the radio or TV when “Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer”,
“Jingle Bells” and “White Christmas” are being played.
There were several kinds of door
visitors in the 1950’s and 1960’s. There were the salesmen would came to
each door trying to sell books such as dictionaries and bibles to housewives
maintaining that these were ideal Christmas presents for their children.
They came nearly every year in late November and early December. Some of us
therefore received identical Christmas presents.
Elderly
ladies collecting for charities in the pre-Christmas period will always
remain in my mind. Dressed in warm clothes, a scarf around their neck and a
woollen hat, they went from door to door asking for a few pence for
charity. We always put a few pence in the slot in the small round tin that
I imagined got full very quickly given the size of the old one penny coin.
The door collectors went as quickly as they came and this was just part of
the Christmas season at Cawston.
Then there was the man who sold
Whitaker’s Almanac which many families considered to be essential as it
containing information on keeping abreast with current affairs. My
grandmother
(photo on the right) loved reading this almanac for its astronomical data,
for the sun rising and setting, moon phases and the position of the stars.
She always kept it near her as her annual reference guide. For her at the
Ratcatchers Row it would not have been Christmas without this informative
almanac.
I also remember once that the Jehovah’s
Witneses went from door to door in Cawston in the pre-Christmas period. At
a very young age I did not understand why they were offering free Bibel
literature and trying to convert people to what they called the truth
until we talked about their evangelical work at the Westleyan Reform Sunday
School. I recall the superintendant at Sunday School explaining to us at a
very young age that the Jehovah’s Witnesses did not celebrate Christmas
because they do not believe that Jesus Christ was born on 25 December and
they considered Christmas to be a pagan festival.
It was amazing how much noise the
rubbish collectors made in mid-December when they collected the rubbish from
the Cawston households. The milkman also took his time to collect the
weekly money wishing each housewife a happy Christmas until she understood
the reason why. It was customary at Christmas time to give the rubbish
collectors, postman/woman, bread delivery man and milkman a small tip for
their services throughout the year. They always provided a service in both
hot and bitterly cold weather and the majority of people wanted to show
their appreciation at this time of the year.
Probably the most important door
visitor in the pre-Christmas period was the chimney sweep. He was part of
life in Cawston and came regularly to sweep the chimneys and many considered
him to be the ultimate bringer of good luck, wealth and happiness.
Furthermore, he brought cleanliness to the homes in Cawston for Christmas.
To Top
World War Two had finished only five
years before the start of the 1950’s and many things such as sweets, meat
and butter were still rationed until about 1953. Despite this, Christmas
was still enjoyed at its utmost although presents were modest. Commercial
television did not exist until late in the 1950’s so there was no pressure
for our parents to have to buy the latest toy or game.
At a time when most people did not
have vehicles there were three busses on working days from Cawston to
Norwich and
back. A visit to the city in December for every country child was a big
adventure. Frantic shopping and last-minute present buying also existed in
the 1950’s and, with more money available in the 1960’s, people started
saying that they were spending far too much money at Christmas. The
highlight of the trip to Norwich was a visit to see Father Christmas (Santa
Claus) at Jarrolds, who was the personification of everything that British
people held dear about Christmas. My mother would pay him a few pence and
then I was asked to take a present from his sack. It was always a small toy
that quickly broke.
As with many customs associated with
British Christmas, the tradition of Father Christmas remained, when the
saintly or religious elements were lost. He became a benevolent, jovial
character, synonymous with the goodwill of Christmas, but his saintly
attributes were gradually disappearing. I do not recall the Father
Christmas at Jarrolds asking me questions about my prayers, my reading,
writing and arithmetic but only about whether I had been a naughty boy. His
standard reply was to improve or he would not visit me at Christmas. I
suppose he will always remain the human face of Christmas with his long
beard, red coat and bag of toys and asking the same question year after
year.
I remember that all of us in the
infants class at Cawston Primary School talked about our adventurous trip to
see him at Norwich. Confusion arose as to whether he was a an elderly
citizen living in a home for the care at Norwich or whether he did really
come from the North Pole. It should not be forgotten that our parents told
us that Santa Claus came from the North Pole on Christmas Eve to deliver the
presents and there he was sitting on a big chair holding a sack of gifts on
the second floor of Jarrolds as early as the second Saturday in December!
Walking around Norwich on any
Saturday in December you would always see the Salvation Army singing
Christmas carols on a
street corner trying to attract the attention of passers-by to help fill
their collection tins. Many stopped to admire their dark blue costumes and
to listen to their singing accompanied by percussion instruments.
Our parents seemed to spend ages
going from shop to shop. They spent in particular a lot of time in
Woolworths and Marks and Spencers, the main two stores for shopping in the
1950’s. As we walked around the bags got heavier and heavier and I was told
in certain shops to look the other way. We usually had a cup of drink in
Woolworths and a well deserved rest before spending a penny (which did
actually cost a penny in those days) and continuing with the shopping before
returning back to Cawston on the 5 o’clock bus.
At Cawston Primary School in
all four grades we made Christmas decorations which were put up in the
classroom or taken home. We also made Christmas cards for our parents by
either drawing festive motives or cutting out pictures from Christmas cards
we had saved from previous years. We rehearsed for the annual Christmas
concert which was to raise money for the Christmas party held a week or two
later. We also read short and long Christmas stories, our favourite being
the Dickens’s story of a heartless capitalist called Scrooge who became
converted on Christmas Eve. It was also quite clear from the
text of Charles Dickens in "A Christmas Carol" that he regarded snow and
cold December weather as an integral part of the Christmas season that was
rarely the case in Cawston.
At the Sunday School of the
Westleyan Reform Chapelwe always had an enjoyable Christmas party with
lots of food, drink and games. It took place on the last Friday before
Christmas, two days before we had the traditional Sunday School carol
service. The funds for the Sunday School Christmas party were raised from
the summer annual Anniversary which always saw a full chapel. The
generosity of the chapel-goers made this party possible. Sunday School at
the Westleyan Reform chapel took place in the back room of the chapel from
10-11 am every Sunday which was followed in the main chapel by the service
for adults. The services included the retelling of
the story of the birth of Christ and the singing of carols. A lot of people attended the adults carol service at
Christmas as it always got them into the Christmas spirit.
Nativity plays are one of the
traditions of Christmas in every Christian church. As a four year old who
was a shepherd in the Nativity Play at St. Michael and All Angels church at
Booton I was a witness to this. At that young age it was an
adventure to dress up as a shepherd and remain standing for about 20 minutes
in front of a full church. Booton church with its dramatic wooden angels on
the roof provided an wonderful setting for the performance of the nativity
play. To Top
The busiest time of the year for
mothers in Cawston was in December when they started talking about the
baking and cooking for Christmas. I remember that this was the main topic
of conversation with my mother, wherever she was. There was always the fear
that the local shops would run out of ingredients to make the Christmas
cake, plum pudding and mince pies.
Originally,
Christmas cakes were known as fruit cakes and baked to give to guests
celebrating the feast of Epiphany or Twelfth Night on 6 January, but after
Reformation in England (16th. century) the festival lost its
religious significance and the fruit cake, better know as Christmas cakes,
became an integral part of Christmas.
My mother always made her Christmas
cake at the beginning of December in order to give it time to mature, as she
would say. She used the same recipe nearly all her life. I wrote her
recipe on a piece of paper in 1975 and took it back to Germany with me.
Since then, I always make this Christmas cake at the beginning of Advent.
The Christmas cake of Beryl Yaxley
(22.5.1930 - 4.5.2005)
12 oz seedless raisins 12 oz sultanas
4 oz candied peel (lemon/orange)
Juice of one lemon 6 oz chopped almonds
12 oz plain flour 2 tsp ground mixed spice
1 tsp round cinnamon some freshly grated
nutmeg
8 oz dark brown sugar 8 oz butter
4 large fresh eggs 3 tbsp brandy or rum
1. Beat butter with sugar until creamy
2. Add eggs with a little flour
3. Add the rest of the ingredients, mix well and
put in a 9 inch greased baking tin
4. Bake for just over 2 hours at 350 F (175 C)
5. Decorate as desired
My mother always said that Christmas
cakes improved greatly with age. In fact, she once worked with a lady from
Oulton village who told her that she made two Christmas cakes in early
December; one for Christmas and one for Easter. Her Easter “Christmas Cake”
was particularly well saturated with an alcoholic substance as a
preservative.
My mother told me that her mother,
my grandmother, made Christmas cakes that were extremely rich and dark and
contain just about every dried fruit you can think of. My mother as girl
spent ages in the kitchen with her mother blanching almonds for the cake. To Top
Mince pies were made a few days
before Christmas and heated again on Christmas Day. The smell of the baking
of mince pies literally went through the entire house and it was difficult
to resist trying one after they had been freshly baked. My mother would
often put a teaspoon of rum or brandy in the mincemeat to “make them more
tasty” as she would say.
Mince pies are very popular and only
made at Christmas time. Originally filled with meat it is now filled with a
mixture of suet, spices and dried fruit. I remember that Kate and Winnie at
the old Ratcatchers Row in the 1950’s always made their own mince pies.
Kate would insist that her husband Alfred took a turn in stirring the
mixture clockwise and making a secret wish. My mother said when making the
mince pie mixture that if you stir the mixture in a anti-clockwise direction
it will bring bad luck in the coming year. The same superstitions apply to
the home making of Christmas puddings.
I remember Kate Betts, a fat lady
and very good friend of my parents old Ratcatchers Row, telling me that it
was her custom to accept at least one mince pie in each house she visit over
Christmas. She told me that not to offer a mince pie in the week before and
after Christmas was bad manners and to refuse one when offered was to turn
away good fortune in the new year. It was evident from the waist size of
Kate that she never refused a mince pie. Kate loved old wives' tale and I
remember once she said that bread baked on Christmas Eve will never go
mouldy. To Top
The
1950’s was an age when people became more inclined to buy a Christmas (plum)
pudding rather than to make one themselves. I remember that we were often
given a home made plum pudding by my grandmother which had a completely
different taste to the bought one. Her scrummy plum pudding almost fell
apart when it was served. It did not really matter which sort of plum
pudding we ate on Christmas Day, the most important thing for the children
was the coin wrapped in silver foil which at Christmas dinner always
appeared on someone’s plate. The usual choice was a
silver a six pence piece (old currency) as it was believed to bring wealth
in the coming year. Up to the 1950’s people put a silver “threepenny bit” (obsolete, but some families
still keep one for the pudding at Christmas).
I cannot forget the cheese
straws that my mother made for the family in the pre-Christmas period. She
said that they were the easiest thing on earth to make as they only required
rubbing flour, Cheddar cheese, margarine and water together with no more
than 10 minutes baking time in the pre-heated oven. To Top
Meatloaves were also very popular at
Christmas and I remember eating them at Christmas when I lived at the
Ratcatchers Row. Meatloaves were real favourites in many households in the
1950’s. For those housewives who did not make a meatloaf themselves, they
had one delivered by Pages at Aylsham. My grandmother always said that the
secret to a good meatloaf was in the onion soup mix and the ground beef that
gave it added flavour. To Top
As children we all loved stories. I
remember being told lots of ghost stories, stories about old Norfolk and
fairy tales that often ended with a moral. These stories were read to us
before we went to bed. We also read stories from the annuals (Beano, Dandy)
we received as Christmas presents.
I
remember one story in particular which we read at
Cawston Primary School
which I particularly enjoyed as a child. It was the sad story of a little
girl walking barefoot through the snow-covered streets on Christmas Eve
trying to sell her matches to support her family. She looked through the
window of the home of a more fortunate family celebrating Christmas and was
found dead on the street the next morning. (H. C. Anderson’s “The Little
Match Girl”).
There is one story that went around
Cawston sometime in the 1950’s that I will never forget. I remember hearing
this story a few times. It is as follows:
When God created the shopkeeper
he enquired about his wishes and desires. The shopkeeper replied that
he wished for a big shop where he could do good business. Then God
created Christmas. The shopkeeper asked God to visit his shop. God did
so and saw the many things on offer and helped himself to a pink sugar
mouse. “Tastes very good”, God said. “And that will be three pence
please”, said the shopkeeper.
As a child we associated this
story with Mr. Riley’s shop as it was near the Westleyan Reform Chapel,
where we imagined God to be. Furthermore, this shops always had pink and
white sugar mice on the counter in December. To Top
This was one of the most exciting
day of the year for all children. All the presents had been bought locally,
in Aylsham or Norwich and the local shops had delivered the Christmas
groceries which were paid for from the weekly contributions to the local
shop’s Christmas club.
I recall that the postman frequently
brought the quarterly electricity bill to the households in Cawston on
Christmas Eve. My mother and some of the neighbours always commented that
they thought this was done on purpose to spoil Christmas.
Despite this setback, all the
presents from the grandparents, aunts, uncles, distant relatives and friends
had arrived and were put near the Christmas tree. My grandmother at Buxton
(Norfolk) had sent over the usual supply of her home-made wines: potato wine
and parsnip wine, which she had prepared in the later summer especially for
Christmas.
I remember how I always tried to put
my fingers through the wrapping paper of some of the badly wrapped
presents. I once hurt my small finger when I tried to open the string on
one
parcel but had to give up as the person who wrapped it obviously had
stronger fingers than I did. I also remember how I used to try to open the
parcels sealed with tape, but was not successful. Then the guessing game
started, “Will I get the same slipper from my grandmother again this year?”;
“How much money has grandfather put in the Christmas card?” Money always
came with some Christmas cards until the late 1950’s when it suddenly
changed to the newly introduced one pound premium bonds which made us
children passive gamblers.
On the same day all the goodies that
had been bought for Christmas were taken out of the cupboard: oblong packets
of dates and round packets of figs, candied lemon and oranges, crystallised
ginger, a wide variety of nuts, oranges and bananas, a large coconut,
traditional and exotic Turkish delight and various kinds of chocolate and
sweets.
Christmas Eve for those still young
enough to believe in Father Christmas (Santa Claus) was an exciting
occasion.
On Christmas Eve I would put one of Mum’s best mince pies on a plate next to
a glass of brandy for Father Christmas to eat after entering the house
through the chimney. Near the chimney I always hung up one of Mum’s
laddered stocking.
On Christmas Eve I was told that
Father Christmas/Santa Claus was on his way around the world to visit all
the children. I must admit that when I was about six years of age I did
wonder at what speed his sleigh was moving around the world. How could he
possibly visit a billion children in one night? He must have travelled
beyond the speed of sound, otherwise he could not have visited very home on
this planet. And how could he carry some hundreds of tons of presents at
that speed?
With these thoughts in my mind and
after drinking a cup of Bournville cocoa I went to bed with an empty pillow
case which I left
at the bottom of my bed in the hope that it might be full the next morning.
I must admit, I was often very frightened that one night of the year
thinking that a stranger would enter my bedroom and hopefully leave again
without taking anything.
As with many customs associated with
British Christmas, the tradition of Father Christmas remained, although in
the 1950’s and 1960’s the saintly or religious elements seemed to have been
lost. Father Christmas was always seen as a fat and jovial character,
representing the Goodwill of Christmas.
Up to school age all boys and girls
in Cawston were taught by their parents that Father Christmas really
existed. It was not until we went to Cawston Primary School that we were
told by the older children that Father Christmas was in fact our parents. I
remember many infants getting very upset and I recall wondering why my
parents had not told me the truth all these years. I often asked myself,
why did I have to find this out from some evil-doers on Cawston school
playing field.
Christmas
Eve was also the day in Cawston when sons and daughters came back home to
see their mother and father at Christmas. I remember at the Ratcatchers Row
how Sydney Monsey and his wife Brenda always came back from Germany to visit
Mr. and Mrs. Monsey.
In the early
hours of the morning of Christmas Day, I often heard our cockerel crow.
When I woke up it was always exciting to find a
pillow case full of presents at the bottom of my bed.. The presents were
all wrapped up in brightly-coloured paper with
secular or religious Christmas motifs. I could
not wait to open them. And downstairs, the ladders in Mum’s old stocking
could no longer be seen as it was full of oranges, apples, nuts and
chocolate.
Piles of coal and logs (Yuletide
logs were used in the olden days as the foundation of the holiday fires)
were put on the open fire and in front of a sparkling Christmas tree and
boxes of dates and figs, oranges, apples, grapes and dishes of nuts on the
sideboard, we opened our presents together. Although I was very young I
could not help observing how parents on Christmas Day also became like
children again when they received gifts. I remember my parents and
grandparents always indicating that Christmas was a time when they returned
to their childhood, when life was easier and simpler before the problems of
the adult life arrived.
Presents in those days were modest
and for boys included a train set, model ships and aeroplanes, tinker toys,
jigsaw puzzles, cap guns with holster, roller skates, games and annuals as
well as well sealed envelopes that not only contained a Christmas card but
also a ten shilling or one pound note and later a premium bond. In the
1950’s and 1960’s families had time to play board or card play games
together. When our parents were busy we played with our paint by numbers
kit, do it yourself projects and cars.
As far as I recall everyone was
satisfied with their presents in the 1950’s. There was no present swapping
as you find nowadays that often turns into a round of “let us see how much
we can collect for the car-boot sale”. Socks, hankerchiefs and deodorants
were unpacked, accompanied by a genuine chorus of “Oh, that’s just what I
wanted”.
We were celebrating Christmas in an
age when society was more contented, stricter, more conservative and rigidly
structured. In a way it was regulated with lots of rules that determined
the right from the wrong. We were brought up to accept what we were given
and not to criticise anything. These were the times when in most families
only the husband was earning money to support the family. The housewife,
who found a job on the land around Cawston in the summer months spent most
of the time at home looking after the house.
Presents for our parents in the
1950’s included , fragrances like Yardley's Lily of the Valley, one of the
Max Factor perfume collection, or Rubenstein’s Apple Blossom. Items to wear
were popular, especially slippers, pullovers, shirts, blouses and white
“under-things”. Chocolates, especially Black Magic, were also very popular
and usually bought by relatives with little imagination.
I do, however, remember one
disappointment that emerged after Christmas when we were back to Cawston
Primary School. One boy told me that he had received a box of large white
hankerchiefs which were embroided with initials not being his own. He
assumed that they had been given to his uncle as a Christmas present the
previous year and was probably right. To Top
Christmas morning was a busy time
for Mum stuffing the bird, putting the vegetables on the stove, making the
gravy and getting the table ready. She had a lot of work but kept calm as
you never heard the banging of saucepans. She would say from time to time
that the oven was slow - not surprising as nearly every housewife in the
nation was cooking the same meal at the same time that day.
While my mother was in the kitchen
cooking we played with our new toys and games, read our annuals and counted
our Christmas money over and over again. This was the day in the year when
we felt rich. There was plenty of time for playing as we did not have a
telephone in the 1950’s and 1960’s and no one could disturb us by looking
for someone to talk to. Those were the days when
you could still see the red telephone box with its crown insignia and domed
roof, a piece of British culture, in the village.
On Christmas Day
the neighbours would come in for a Christmas drink
and we would also visit them. We often went for a short walk before dinner
to get an appetite although this was not always necessary as we usually
forgot to have breakfast due to the excitement.
Dinner was ready at about 1
o’clock. The bird (chicken, turkey, goose) was carved and the vegetables
were put onto the table. The feast began. We helped ourselves to the sage
and onion stuffing, sausages wrapped in bacon, the well-done Belgian
cabbage-like vegetable known as Brussels sprouts, the fresh carrots and
parsnips from the garden that everyone maintained tasted better after a
frost, the boiled and roasted potatoes, thick dark-brown onion and giblet
gravy and the jewel-bright cranberry sauce. And then the wish-bone had to
be pulled and the winner made the wish, that as far as I recollect never
came true. After the main course we would all declare that we were
completely full but always seemed to have room for a piece of Christmas
pudding.
The absence of a Christmas pudding
from our Christmas dinner would be looked upon as a breach of English
traditional. After my mother had turned out her
srummy Christmas pudding out of its basin, it was traditionally decorated
with a spray of holly and often with a little brandy, then flamed briefly on
the table where it was then served. We ate it with either brandy
butter or
custard. And then we looked to see who had received the sixpence piece
(old money) that was traditionally hidden in the pudding. It is said that the person finding this coin in the
pudding will have prosperity in the new year. I often got it but never
found myself becoming a rich schoolboy.
After washing up the dinner crockery
and cutlery our parents would plunge into a soft chair and just sit there
until 3pm and ponder on what the new Queen would say to the nation in her
Christmas message. For these 15 holy minutes we all sat silent and listened
to Her Majesty, a young lady at the time, address the nation. This was an
indelible part of Christmas Day and the family paid dutiful attention to her
Majesty’s wise words. It was the time once a year even the most ardent
anti-royalist would want to tune in as it was very much part of a typical
English Christmas. When it was over a lively discussion would start, in
particular when my grandparents from Eastgate were present. I remember on
one occasion when the discussion about her speech quickly turned into an
argument and became even worse when my grandmother said to my grandfather,
“Don’t swear and argue like that in front of the children. It’s Christmas
Day”
At Cawston Primary School in January
we were once asked to write an essay called “The Queen’s Christmas
Message”. We had to write a Christmas speech for the Queen. This task
obviously tested our knowledge of the British constitution and current
affairs although at that age most of us would preferred to have stated that
the Queen should provide us with free gobstoppers and wine gums every day of
our lives.
After the Queen’s speech my
grandfather, if he were with us on Christmas Day, often told us about the
World War I Christmas Truce on Christmas Day 1914, that is a classical
example of how Christmas love can triumph over fighting at war. Uncles and
aunts as well as grandparents always reminisced at Christmas and told us
about their lives as a child and that Christmas had changed since then.
My grandfather once told the family
that in the olden days this was the ideal time of year to slaughter animals
of all kind to provide meat for the family during the winter months. He
also told us that when his father was alive Christmas was often the only
time of the year when the family had a sufficient supply of fresh meat.
Christmas was also the time of year to drink wine that had been made during
late summer. What a perfect time of the year, the end of December in the
northern hemisphere, to celebrate Christmas.
As the afternoon wore on and the
effects of the Christmas dinner wore off, we were in the mood for some fun
and games. Games included “hunt the thimble” and “charades” (suitable for
all ages, from grandmother to the youngest child). My favourite charades
were “artichoke - (art/tea/choke) and dinosaur - (dine/no/saw).
My mother or father would then
declare that it was time for a walnut or peanut. Did all parents remember
where they put the nutcrackers when they packed them away last year? There
was one occasion when we could not find them. So we just got a handful of
chestnuts and roasted them over the blazing fire which almost roasted us
instead.
5 o’clock and time for tea. Mum
would say that it was too early so we waited until 6 pm for chicken or
turkeys sandwiches, jelly, trifle, fruit salad etc. And the jewel of the
day was Mum’s Christmas cake which clearly demonstrated her shaky hand with
the “Royal” icing. “It tastes better than it looks” she would say every
year as we all took a piece and said how moist it was with the generous
amount of an alcoholic substance (mostly brandy). One year our negative
comments resulted a Dundee cake the following Christmas.
Christmas in England without
Christmas cracker would not be Christmas. At home my mother normally opened
the box of 12 crackers at around tea time. They contained the usual: a
paper hat or crown made of thin tissue paper, a small rather useless toy or
trinket and a motto or corny joke, e,g.
“What do you get if you eat
Christmas decorations?” Answer: “Tinselitus”;
“What do you call a big polar
beer?” Answer: “Nothing, you just run away”
“Why do birds fly north?” Answer:
“Because it is too far for them to walk.”
I remember one year making my own
crackers by using the empty tubes of toilet rolls. I wrote even sillier
jokes.
Later that evening it would be time
for a hot mince pie. While the adults indulged in a glass of wine, port or
sherry we children were given hot chocolate or a cold drink and continued to
play with our new toys and games while Mum admired her Christmas cards an
ask why a aunt so-and-so had not sent her one this year. Hardly anyone had
a telephone in those days so you could not call and ask. Frequently the
missing card arrived after Christmas and the
second class postage stamp was
not to blame as there was only one class of postage in the 1950’s.
Soon after it was time for us to go
to bed and look forward to Boxing Day when we had visitors from relatives or
we visited them. Boxing Day was more or less a continuation of Christmas
Day when a present or two was received from an aunt or uncle or friend who
had forgotten to send it to us before Christmas. I remember my grandfather
lecturing us one Christmas about the origins of Boxing Day saying how in
medieval times priests emptied the alms box of the churches and distributed
gifts to the poor, and if there were no poor they just kept the money.
I remember that we bought our first
television set just before one Christmas in the late 1950’s. This
significantly changed our lives in the evenings, especially at Christmas
when we could actually watch the broadcast of the Queen’s Christmas
message. Until that time entertainment life was simple. There was no
television culture with multiple commercially-funded channels to promote
materialistic view of Christmas helping us forget the dark days of winter.
Radio
In the 1950’s there were three main
BBC Radio stations. Before we had a TV we mostly listened to the "Light Programme" (now Radio 2),
that broadcasted popular music and light entertainment such as variety
shows, comedy, and drama. The
"Home Service" (now Radio 4) was the main channel for news,
features, and drama although it did have some entertainment of a more
demanding kind. The "Third
Programme" broadcasted in the evenings only - mainly
classical music and concerts as well as talk shows on philosophical and
cultural issues.
The Archers”was the favourite of the
older population. My grandfather often repeated the famous lines of Walter
Gabriel in his Norfolk dialect, "Well me
old pal, me old beauties". When I visited Mrs. Monsey I always had to keep
quiet when “Woman's Hour” was on the radio, especially at Christmas time as
she was always interested in new Christmas cooking recipes and household
tips. “Woman’s Hour” also dealt with keeping house, health, children,
beauty care and home furnishing. Mrs. Monsey always said that the timing of
this programme 2-3 pm was good as this just after she had done the washing
up. “Mrs. Dale's Diary” was also a favourite with many people who lived at
the Ratcatchers Row.
I remember my grandmother listening to that programme
almost every day.
For us children “Children's Hour’
was the classic. This programme was listed to by most children in Cawston
and was like a national institution as it was designed to meet children's
wants and children's needs in the 1950’s. “Children’s Hour” was broadcast from 5-6 pm on weekdays when we were back home
from school. I remember during Advent that this
programme presented
children with lots of Christmas stories, music and art and craft ideas.
Another favorite was “Childrens
Favourites” on Saturday mornings; the favourites of the children in those
days at Christmas meant Bing Crosby singing 'White Christmas'.
Television
Those who had a television in the 1950’s all watched the chubby faced
toddler in a picnic basket called “Andy Pandy”.
As children we also loved Christmas programmes like the Christmas TV party
shows with the stars (Tommy Cooper, Harry Secombe, Wilfred Pickles, Bob
Monkhouse). Our parents enjoyed Harry Belefonte singing Christmas carols.
As children we all waited patiently for the seasonal pantomimes on TV such
as “Dick Whittington” or “The Babes in the Wood”, a truly Norfolk folklore
that allegedly happened in Wayland Wood. There were always well know
celebrities in these pieces such as Hattie Jacques, Spike Milligan, Frankie
Howard or Charlie Drake. And Boxing Day was not complete without the
Chipperfield Circus show.
Panel games often
had a Christmas touch to them such as the popular. “What's My Line” chaired
by Eamonn Andrews. An ideal quiz programme for the entire family as well
tried to guess the occupations of ordinary members of the public before the
panel did. And what would Christmas have been without the special edition
of the “Black and White Minstrel Show”, “Christmas at Canterbury” and
“Bronco”? To Top
There were families in the village
in the 1950’s who brought their own traditions to Cawston from their home
countries.
The German nationals Mr. Walter and
Mrs. Ilse Gehre (photo on left) and their family lived in a bungalow not far
from the church and were on friendly terms with our family. This where we
got the first taste of a German Christmas. Ilse would traditionally light
candles on each Sunday during Advent, Walter (a baker by profession) would
bake a German style Christmas cake called Stollen and various seasonal
biscuits, the favourite being Spekulatius. I remember Ilse telling us that
in Germany the four weeks before Christmas “were the most wonderful days of
the year”.
At this point I would like to
mention a certain house at Eastgate which I visited several times in the
week before Christmas in 1967 when Cawston sub post office asked me to
assist with the delivery of letters. One house on my round near the cross
roads at Eastgate had the outside of their letter box decorated with
colourful decorations. This remained a mystery to me for years. At the time
my parents and grandparents all remarked that these sort of Christmas
trimmings were exaggerated and they “did not know what Christmas was coming
to”. Years later, I read that in certain parts of America it is customary
to decorate letter boxes at Christmas time and it was then obvious to me
that the people who lived there were either Americans or people who were
following an American custom. To Top
This question could be answered in
several different ways by the villagers who experienced Christmas in the
1950’s. For some, it would be the atmosphere of shopping in the village or
going Christmas shopping to Aylsham or Norwich. For others, it would be the
decorations in the shops. For many, the fairy tales and stories. For
probably for a large number, the smells of minced pies, boiling puddings and
the poultry cooking at Christmas. Many of the villagers would say that it
was a time for going to church or chapel although they had avoided this all
year long. It was also the time when the adults looked forward to going to
a pantomime with the children. And Christmas was not “just for the
children’ as many people would maintain. For the majorities of families in
Cawston, however, it must have been the family getting together with the
memories of the war still in their minds.
The spirit of giving people
something that they need is a good way to show love and help to others,
especially at Christmas and this seemed to be the case in the families of
Cawston the 1950’s. To a large extent Christmas still had its true meaning
in those days and was less about buying unnecessary products from
multinational companies to expand their profit and power than giving
pleasure to people. The commercialisation of Christmas and the buying of
gifts which people do not need, did not apply so much some 50 years ago as
most of the villagers, especially the children, needed the clothes they
received as the years following the war were still of hardship to many. To Top
Cawston was very quiet on New Year’s
Eve in the 1950’s and 1960’s. Most people stayed at home and listened to
the wireless or, if they had one, watched television. I recall nothing much
of interest to report on New Year’s Eve or 1 January. It should not be
forgotten that 1 January was a normal working day in England until the
1980’s.
On New Year’s Sunday we always spent
the afternoon and evening with my grandparents at Buxton (Norfolk). We
would travel there by car at around 2.30 in the afternoon. For us it was
like Christmas Day again with the exception that we received no more
presents. There was an abundance of food and drinks and we played games and
talked about school and other activities for hours.
As soon as New Year’s Day was over,
I often heard my mother often talking to the neighbours about new ideas to
loose the weight that she had put on over Christmas. This was also a
problem in the 1950’s and 1960’s in late December and women’s magazines were
the first after Christmas to offer their constructive “solutions”. Most
women in those lost by weight by riding a bicycle.
My mother always insisted that we
took down the Christmas decorations and the tree on 6 January. On this day,
the twelve days of Christmas finished - the days that separate Christmas day
on December 25 from Epiphany, 6 January. By this time we had visited all
neighbours having a Christmas or New Year’s drink and enjoying a hot mince
pie with them.
This story actually happened at Eastgate in the latter
part of the 1940’s and was told to me several times by Mrs. May Monsey.
She lived with her husband Stanley Monsey (died in 1953) in one of the red
brick houses along the old Ratcatchers Row before she was relocated to
Rodwell Corner up to her death in the 1960’s.
(Two
photos of May Monsey)
It was a bitterly cold day in
Cawston and Christmas was only two days away when May Monsey said to her
husband Stanley that her step son from Dereham had still not been to see
them. He always visited them a few days before Christmas bringing them a
chicken for their Christmas Day dinner.
Later that day in the afternoon
their son Ronnie appeared at the door with nothing less than a freshly
plucked chicken as he had heard that his stepbrother had not delivered the
Christmas chicken. As Ronnie sat there talking, my grandfather, Cecil Dunn
who had just been to the old pump to collect water, tapped on the door and
entered with a freshly plucked chicken from his own stock. He had also
heard that there was no news from the step son at Dereham and did not want
May and Stanley to be without a chicken on Christmas Day. So there they all
sat laughing about the two chickens and drinking a glass of rum.
About an hour later there was a
gentle knock at the front door. “That’ll be the afternoon post”, said May
Monsey. When the door opened she could not believe her eyes as her step son
walked in holding a freshly plucked chicken. Over another glass of rum they
all laughed and said that May and Stanley would have a feast of their lives
this year eating three chickens on Christmas Day.
The next day was Christmas Eve and
just after the delivery of the milk, May Monsey suddenly remembered the
story of a lonely old man who lived somewhere along Back Lane off the Buxton
Road at Eastgate. This old man dressed in shabby clothes was often seen
riding his rusty bike along the Ratcatchers Row and Booton Road. Stanley
knew a lot of people in Cawston and did not know a soul who had a long
conversation with this elderly citizen of Eastgate. May and Stanley
knew that they would never be able to eat the three
chickens on Christmas Day as they were not expecting guests, so decided on the spot to cook one of them and take it to the old man.
My grandfather Cecil Dunn and Ronnie Monsey)
It was a bitterly cold Christmas Eve
so May Monsey put on her thick woollen coat, hand knitted mittens and
woollen hat and walked to the old man’s cottage at Eastgate early that
afternoon. In her shopping bag she carried the cooked chicken wrapped in
greaseproof paper and several layers of newspapers to keep it warm as well
as some of her home-made shortbread keeping her fingers crossed that he
would be at home.
When she arrived at his house she
saw that the old brick cottage was in a dilapidated condition. The weeds in
the front garden were covered in frost, the fence was broken, the unpainted
front porch was falling apart and the back garden was overgrown with the
exception of a small patch where the frozen tops of parsnips, carrots and
leaks could be seen.
The old man opened the back door
that lead directly into the kitchen and asked Mrs Monsey to come in. The
small kitchen window was so dirty that it let hardly any light into the
room. Piles of old newspapers, crockery and tins were lying in every
corner. The kitchen table was covered with an old newspaper that served as
a table cloth. It was covered with dirty plates, dishes, saucepans and
cups May Monsey was offered a seat on a wooden chair near the draughty
window. She sat down and he gave her a cup of tea in a cracked cup. “You
are first person to visit me for years”, the old man said, as May Monsey
cautiously sipped her tea and looked at the saucer of milk standing on the
floor for his cat.
Presenting him with the cooked
chicken, May Monsey told him about her three chickens she and her husband
had received for Christmas. He smiled. “My dear”, he said “this is the
first Christmas present I have received for years.” He went on to explain
how he had moved from West Norfolk to Cawston a few years after the death of
his wife in the late 1930’s. They had no children and he had lost his only
unmarried brother during the war (1939-45). It was obvious that he had
found life difficult to manage since the death of his wife and the new start
in Cawston had not worked out as he had hoped.
It was getting dark when May Monsey
decided that she must go back to her home at the Ratcatchers Row. She had
spent almost three hours talking to the old man, listening to his stories,
putting a cheer on his face and making a promise to visit him again early in
the new year.
It was already a week into January
and May Monsey was about to leave the house to visit the old man when her
husband arrived back from Cawston on his bike. He told her that he had just
heard in a shop that this old man at Eastgate had been found dead on his
kitchen floor. It was on May’s mind for days that her chicken might have
killed him until one day the milkman told her that he had had a stroke.
(May and Staney Monsey’s headstone in the mid 1960 and in 2005 – Cawston
cemetary