Christmas: Pantos, Santa and all the trimmings

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Phil Lowe shares his abiding memories of childhood Christmases in Chaddesden.

Phil Lowe with his two step-sisters around the Christmas table

Phil Lowe opening his presents on a childhood Christmas morning

Phil Lowe with his dad and Action Man at Christmas in his childhood

Phil Lowe's mum Marjorie who died when he was a young child

Phil Lowe used to take his sledge to Darley Park when it snowed

I remember Christmas as a special time, with the months preceding being active with preparations towards the festive season and the constant hope of snow on Christmas Day.

At the end of 1962, I think the folk of Chaddesden and Derbyshire must have wished too hard, as there was a massive fall of snow that left the county and the UK deeply snowbound for two whole months.

At this time, I must have been six or seven and I spent a lot of time tobogganing that year with Dad on Perth Street green.

Sometimes we would even go as far as Darley Park to use our home-made sledge. It was great fun.

All around Chaddesden, mums, well used to baking and creating puddings and such, would be off to the shops in September/October/November to buy the sweet and savoury ingredients for the creation of Christmas puddings and, even earlier than that, big slab Christmas cakes would be cooked and stored away safely in greaseproof paper lined cake tins ready for the eating and admiring of over the holiday.

Unlike today, when Christmas seems to start in June, the big elaborate Christmas displays appeared in the large stores such as Ranby’s (now Debenhams) and Midland Drapery and the Co-op in mid-October.

To pay for all the toys and presents, a lot of parents would save up in toy clubs. “Slapping it on the plastic” was unheard of until Barclaycard introduced the first credit card in 1966.

For any larger domestic purchases ‘hire purchase’ had just come in.

Any large toys would be secreted away in neighbours’ sheds or the attic and nosy children, desperate to see what they had got for Christmas, could often be misled into thinking that they had got a bike or a train set when, in reality, what they were seeing were hidden presents for next door’s children.

For infants and junior schoolchildren, Christmas would be very much looked forward to and an equal amount of traditional preparation would be going on in their little lives, guided by the teachers.

Most schools had a Nativity play to reinforce the biblical and festive messages of yuletide.

I recollect doing two shows at Roe Farm Infants and Junior School. The first one was the Nativity play in which I was to play one of the three kings.

I didn’t turn up on the actual night of the production so they had to draft in some other kid to wear a cardboard crown, stripy pyjamas, carry a nice gift and feign a serious kingly demeanour.

Why didn’t I turn up? I couldn’t be bothered going back to school and I didn’t understand that all the doting parents would be there and that it was important to have all three kings.

It was around the time that my mother, Marjorie, had passed away and I was living just with Dad. I don’t think I even mentioned to him that I was in the play.

I did turn up for Aladdin and his Magic Lamp, which featured Puff the Magic Dragon and a willow pattern backdrop.

This was stretching the Arabian Nights stories a tad far but it gave us a good excuse to be silly in a dragon outfit. Myself, in the middle section, and the boy behind, had little sense of co-ordination between us, so we must have been a nightmare to direct.

There was a lot of group singing in this school production and we had to sing inside the costume between gasps for fresh air.

The boy at the head had the responsibility of directing a jet of talcum powder out of the nostrils of the dragon through a clean washing-up bottle. This was supposed to represent smoke but it didn’t always work.

Moving nearer to Christmas, the month of December came hurtling around the festive corner and so did the carol singers in little cherubic bunches, moving from house to house along Perth Street.

While the carols were sung outside, oranges and pennies were distributed for payment and sweet little pockets of popular Xmas songs floated upward and over the winter streets of Chaddesden.

When Dad remarried and I gained two stepsisters, Angela and Dawn and later still a new little brother, Adrian, we would find ourselves there at the beginning of December helping my new mum and dad prepare the house with all the festive decorations.

Of course, this would include dressing the plastic tree that came out every year from its dusty sojourn in the attic.

The tree would be unfolded in the living room, scattering last year’s glitter like ancient snow, and would be festooned with traditional decorations that came out every year such as a silver and blue bird with a soft white brush tail, densely coloured peardrop lights, all purple, green, red, royal blue and warm yellow.

The tree would be aching with the weight of fat shiny Santas, bells, baubles, various red breast robin representations, tumultuous trinkets, small twisted red and green candles, fairy lights, a fairy with wings and tutu and cheap Christmas crackers.

The living room would become a Santa’s grotto; all paper chains, crêpe paper artefacts, fold out and clip together snowmen, balls, Christmas trees, and various bell shapes.

The ceiling became a sea of handmade and bought garlands. In the corners were bunches of cheek busting balloons, positioned dangerously close to bigger bunches of fresh berry-laden holly.

All the many cards floated on multiple lines of cotton filling the flock wallpaper like washing lines full of love and Christmas cheer.

Christmas Eve was an evening like no other. It was full of expectation for children. Pretty soon “he” would be whizzing around the world delivering all those sought after gifts.

Carrots left in the hearth by kind children fuelled Santa’s magical reindeers and Santa himself was fuelled with a hundredweight of mince pies and gallons of sherry.

Prior to his yearly visit, we would write out our wish-list and often go to see him in a major store like Midland Drapery on East Street where we would sit on his lap and tell him what we would like him to bring.

Just for coming to see him he would give us a wrapped up little gift.

To double our chances of getting the toys we wanted, we would duplicate the list and send it up the chimney at home for Santa to read the charred remains.

Fuelled by unbelievable excitement, Christmas morning couldn’t come early enough and our parents would be begged and pleaded with at two or three in the morning to be allowed to open the presents.

The bedrooms we inhabited would then become a mass of torn Christmas paper and gasps of delight.

It sounds a bit quaint thinking back, to say that we used to be thrilled to get a sock filled with peanuts and chocolate money and an orange as part of the gifting process, but maybe those days were traditionally part of a more innocent age.

In the 1960s, Christmas dinner was often a large chicken (pure luxury) or topside of beef with roast parsnips, exceptionally well cooked sprouts, peas, green beans, roast potatoes and gravy.

Crackers would be pulled and we all had to wear the paper crowns that fell out of them as part of the festivities.

After a huge dinner, we would tuck into a rich Christmas pudding and custard with silver sixpences buried deep within.

As Mum had done all the cooking and food preparation, and Dad had sharpened the knife to cut the bird, my sisters and I had the pleasure of doing the mound of washing-up.

This took hours, as we went through the usual routine of making a big deal of our washing up, drying up and putting away chores.

Christmas afternoon was spent watching the telly and playing with our toys. Dad would be reviewing his gifts of Brut or Old Spice aftershaves, perhaps some tartan slippers and nylon-free socks. Mum would be fondling an acre of smellies like Blue Grass perfume, Yardley lavender bath cubes and boxed sets of pretty handkerchiefs.

These were mostly gifts “from the kids” and they bought themselves something more substantial each.

Just in case we hadn’t had enough to eat, there would be satsumas, dates and figs as well as a whole squirrel’s hoard of nuts; some easier to crack than others.

On top of this, selection boxes of chocolates would do the rounds while us kids would be encouraged to play the games printed on the bottom of the box.

Then there were jellied fruits and soft drinks galore.

Three or four hours later, our Mum presented us with a massive spread of sandwiches involving a lot of salmon paste, accompanied with pickled onions, salad, shortbread, pork pie, piccalilli, trifle, crisps and a chocolate log with a plastic robin on top.

Finally, just in case you were hungry (as if that was possible), some rich Christmas cake was proffered.

There was not a huge amount of alcohol in the house as very few of us drank. Dad might be encouraged to have Navy Rum and Mum a Babycham or brandy and ginger wine.

Bottles of stout were brought in for visitors and us children had soft drinks like lemonade.

If my Auntie Dora or Edith came round they would be given a snowball, a drink that consisted of lemonade and advocaat.

Once tea was finished, the groaning table in the dining room was cleared and the family and some neighbours were invited in to lose money in games of cards like knockout whist, rummy and snap.

Sometimes, the Monopoly board would be aired for a change and, with any of the games, cheating was deeply frowned upon.

Mince pies and such were offered for supper during the latter part of the cards session.

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