Embedded Files
Look - Click Here for -
I was born in 1925, which implies that my conscious memory extends back to the late 1920s. So, by ‘Prior to World War Two’, I refer to a period, which begins hazily in 1928 and ends with clarity on 3 September 1939.
In the late 20s, Britain still reeling from the cataclysm of the Great War, was sliding into the morass of the Great Depression. The resulting mass unemployment played havoc in communities everywhere, but nowhere as bad as in South Wales, where Mumbles had its quota.
This then was the background to a Christmas of this period with little work and much poverty, a situation, which eased little until the end of the 30s. One can only marvel at the near miracles performed by parents in attempting to create a day worthy of this celebration, but succeed they did.
Earliest activities were seen in schools where late November auditions and rehearsals were held for the Christmas Concert. In Oystermouth Council School, this concert is remembered for the talents of two stars — Frank Gold with a voice like Ernest Lough and Cammie Rosser with a piano touch like Mark Hambourg. The rest is remembered for its unique mediochrity, bored pupils having their restlessness stilled by Headmaster, Arthur Ivor Davies cracking the recalcitrants’ heads with his cudgel.
An interesting sequel to the concert was a return to classrooms for the annual paying out of the school bank. Every year, starting in January, weekly deposits were paid to the form teacher; these were entered into a book and onto the pupil’s card. All interest went to school funds and at the end of the year, the capital saved was withdrawn. Although only a pound or two, this made all the difference to the family’s celebration.
As would be expected, the corresponding concerts in the Secondary schools were polished affairs with a wealth of talent. Following the celebration, again pupils would return to classrooms to collect report books, which were taken home for anxious parents to peruse. A pleasant custom in Mumbles was to take one’s report up to the old school to show our former teachers. This was possible because the Elementary Schools b
Oystermouth School
Children at play in Gower Place, 1914
Broke up a week later. Staff glowed with vicarious pleasure at the success of their former charges, but a barely veiled hostility radiated from incumbent pupils towards these visiting smartasses and in retrospect one wonders how one left the school alive.With school over, first task was decoration making. None were ever bought, but made with scissors, glue and crepe paper. Holly was purloined from woods and gardens, but mistletoe was bought for a few pence from Mr. Chambers, the Fish, in Newton Road. Christmas trees were never artificial and cost 3d for a small one and 1/- for a four footer. These were festooned with carefully conserved tinsel, glass ornaments and the odd fairy. Electric fairy lights began to appear in the late 30s, but colour was added by clipping on real candles, which were lit on Christmas Eve and Day — a practice fraught with hazard. External decorations did not exist, there were no holly wreaths on doors and the practice of bedecking the exterior of a house with lights (like a Blackpool Tram) was half a century away.
On dry, frosty nights small groups of children would venture to sing carols outside individual houses. Following a popular carol, a knock on the door would elicit one of two responses — the handing over of a copper with a ‘Merry Christmas’ or the door being yanked open by an irate, tousled man yelling ‘ How many more bloody times? SOD OFF!’ In fairness, Mumbles being a small place meant that this wretched fellow had probably been disturbed half a dozen times that night whilst trying to rest after a ten-hour slog. However, in spite of these little set backs, carol singing must surely be remembered as the happiest and most Christmassy of activities. There was the message of the carol itself, the joy of singing it and the sound of those young, untrained voices rising, on a brittle-sharp clear night, as if to reach the stars themselves. Magic moments, indeed!
It was not only children who sang carols, there was a spontaneous contribution from the pubs. Singing of surprisingly good quality and harmony would frequently out as an ale or two removed inhibition, but pride of place must go to the All Saints’ choir. Fully bedecked, forty-strong and carrying picturesque lanterns on poles, this great choir would sing at strategic places such as Oystermouth Square, the Parade Gardens, Southend and in Albert Place. Wherever they sang, it carried to all places in the village, bringing the true message of Christmas. Worthy of mention too, is the Sally Ally Band, who every Christmas toured the area and belted out the popular carols with great gusto.
The Tivoli and Regent Cinemas acknowledged the festive season by projecting a scratched message on a piece of smoked glass—‘The Management wish all their patrons a Merry Christmas!’ This stimulated a vociferous response from the rougher element in the threepennies.
There were no big stores in Mumbles and one of the annual treats was a trip to Swansea with Mother on our lovely Train. Quality stores such as Ben Evans, David Evans, Sydney Heath, Dan Morgan etc., were visited and one gawped at such treasures as the Raleigh golden Arrow Bike (£7..15s) Hornby Trains (£3 to £20) and Meccanos (5s to £10). Then one left to buy in Woolworth’s or the Swansea market! The highlight of the day was tea at high Street Woolworths in the upstairs cafeteria — Pop, Shepherd’s Pie, Chips and Roll for 10d! Every store had a Santa Claus Grotto and could be visited for 6d, which included a trashy present from Mr. Claus himself.With aching legs we caught the No. 4 Bus from Dillwyn Street to Oystermouth, the return half of our Train ticket being acceptable. Back to our homes in the village where we carried on preparing for The Day.
The refrigerator, like the vacuum cleaner, was a rare animal, and its non-existence dictated an age-old pattern of last-minute shopping for all perishable goods e.g. poultry would be collected in the evening and shops like Maypole would be furiously selling dairy produce at 8 o’clock at night. To preserve the condition of these foods at home meant their storage on a stone slab or in a meat-safe in the back yard.
At last, Christmas Eve bed-time would arrive and children would retire having no idea what surprises were in store for them. No one expected too much and no one was disappointed. Most homes came to life very early on Christmas day, perhaps aroused by the Postman (Yes! there was a delivery on Christmas day and down in Gower, Master Ace, the post-boy, was already delivering chickens for the dinner). Children excitedly checked the traditional stocking hanging from the mantelpiece of the bedroom fireplace. Voices trilled as plasticine sets, water colours, annuals, and maybe a Conway Stewart fountain pen or a Marks and Spencer wrist watch (5s) were discovered. Then parents were aroused and faces anxiously inspected for their reaction to their presents — always, always one of delight.
When the cost of a turkey exceeded the budget, the substitute was a goose or a chicken, which were enjoyed just as much. Cooking a large bird was impossible in the small ovens at the side of the kitchen fire so the local Baker helped out by cooking them in his oven and, in the case of Tom Davies, for no charge. Early morning would see a procession of people carrying large platters covered with white cloths up to the bakery in Gloucester Place. Midday would see this procession in reverse as the cooked birds were taken back to the homes, leaving behind a wonderful aroma.
Waiting in the house would be a cooked selection of vegetables, probably from the allotment and fed on Swansea Bay seaweed. Perhaps memory is playing its devious tricks but I feel sure that it all tasted so much better then! What was on the table was plain and seasonal. Table wines were unheard of, children drank Mr. Emmanuel Thomas’ pop and dads drank ale bought from the pub that morning. Crackers were pulled, hats were donned, terrible riddles read out and novelties inspected. A gargantuan meal would be consumed and impossibly topped up with home-made Christmas pudding which had threepenn’orth of brandy poured over it and ignited. In the darkening room, ‘Oohs! and Aahs!’ would be gasped as the blue flames danced around and over the rich dish. Smothered with Mr. Bird’s custard, the pudding would be ingested with the occasional click as teeth grated on a hidden silver thru’penny bit.
The end of the meal coincided with the King’s Speech. Everyone sat and quietly listened to the weary, cultured voice of a much-loved sovereign, King George V. There was great pride in the fact that this broadcast was going all over the world to fellow citizens of the Empire upon which the sun never sets. With the playing of the National Anthem, we would all stand up to show loyalty and respect.After the big clear up, the fire was banked, curtains drawn to shut out the bitter cold and darkening sky. Adults would sink into a narcoleptic state and children disappear to bedrooms and landings to investigate their presents in depth. In cramped living conditions, this did provide adults with much-needed peace.
By late afternoon, signs of life would return to the living room and lights switched on. For the rest of the day, games would be played such as Consequences, Town, Country River, Ludo, Snakes and Ladders, Happy Families and card games such as Snap, Old Maid etc. Early evening, high tea would be served with ham, salad, tinned fruit and cream, mince pies and, of course, the centrepiece — the Christmas Cake. This had been baked in November, iced and garnished with little robins, reindeer and pretend holly. At this stage of the evening, it was customary for the men to slip out for an hour to the Local for a glass of ale (3d) and a woodbine (5 cigs for 2d). The pubs were never packed on Christmas night and, as with the rest of the holiday, there was little drunkenness and no unruly behaviour.
The men would return to join the family fun, which continued as before. At the end of the 30s, a new game took the world by storm — Monopoly. This would eventually take up many a happy hour in the family home and was the fore-runner to many other adult board games although few would ever rival its success.
So, Christmas day would gradually draw to a close. Weary children would succumb to fatigue and, after kisses all round, would be shepherded off to bed, clutching a new teddy or a precious annual. Tucked into bed, a last special hug was given, which expressed the mutual love and gratitude of both parties. It had been a truly glorious day.
In a material sense, today’s Christmas, in competition with one in the 30s can only be described as a one-horse race. However, in the race for the sheer happiness stakes — I know which horse will carry my money.
A selection of articles by Grafton Maggs
A selection of articles by Grafton Maggs
Going to the Tiv by Grafton Maggs
Another favourite pastime in the 1930s was ‘Going to the pictures.’ It was a special occasion with an excitement far exceeding that of a visit to the impersonal ...
The Games we played by Grafton Pearce Maggs
I look back on my childhood in the thirties as on halcyon days, a great deal of that happiness coming from shared moments with so many ...
The Saturday Tuppenny Tradition by Grafton Maggs
I remember so well those cold, drizzly, winter mornings, waking, as a little lad, to the soft grey light that filtered through the bedroom curtains.
They are giving away free ice-cream at Forte's by Grafton Maggs
Our generation was expert on ice cream in the thirties and with some justification as the days of the great mass producers had not arrived.
Village Schooldays by Grafton Pearce Maggs
‘Schooldays are the happiest days of your life!’, expressed a sentiment with which I have never been in full harmony.
The Instant Army that came from Nowhere by Grafton Maggs
May 2010 came, and went, remembered mainly for one thing. A General Election which, after all the counting . . .
Some members of ‘C’ Coy (Mumbles) 12th Bn. Home Guard recalled by Grafton Maggs& Duncan Bishop
Any additional names or details for the Mumbles Home Guard would be welcome
Page updated
Google Sites
Report abuse