It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Christmas 1967
The Time I Saw Father Christmas … Twice.

Liverpool Christmas Lights in the 60s

 When I was a little kid in the 1960s in Liverpool, I always looked forward to seeing the official switching-on ceremony of the Christmas lights. It was such a big thing back then. My mum and Dad would take me and our Sue on a freezing cold walk into town. We’d look at all the shop window displays. They were always great. Christmas scenes made from expensive ornaments and toys that I knew I would never get. We were really poor back then. We’d see the lights switched on and crowds of people would cheer. It sounds mad now, but it was such a big thing. Our trip to town would end with our yearly visit to a fancy restaurant, which in reality was the cheapest basement café in Chinatown, for Chicken Fried Rice.

Not a real shop from my childhood but you know what I mean.

 The next few weeks would be the buildup to Christmas. It was such a great time. Have you ever visited a Christmas grotto? Do you even know what one is? All the big department stores used to have Christmas grottos. Basically, your mum & dad would pay to walk you through a winter wonderland scene, and at the end you would meet Father Christmas. You’d be sat on his knee by some kid dressed as an elf and get your photo taken, tell him everything you wanted and then receive a crappy gift. Now I think they’ve dropped the winter wonderland, and the kids just queue up to sit on some fella’s knee, and that’s about it.

My Nin used to take me to all the Grottos. I think she loved Christmas more than I did.

On this particular day out, she took me to see The Dancing Waters at TJ’s. The Dancing Waters were amazing. Imagine sitting in a small theatre and the curtains open. Christmas music plays and a row of water fountains move in the dark. Then suddenly, in time with the music, they are lit up by multi-coloured lights. It’s like watching a firework display, but wetter. The jets are literally dancing to the music. There are “oohs and ah’s” from the crowd. You have to realise that this was before anyone had a colour telly. This was innovative technology.

When the show had finished everyone was lining up to see Father Christmas, but we didn’t go to meet him. My Nin said we had to go… How was he going to find out that I wanted a Bike?

We left TJ’s and caught the bus back to Edge Hill. I was heartbroken. My big chance to seal the deal with Father Christmas was gone. I’d already put a letter up the chimney, but I wasn’t convinced that it hadn’t just burnt to a crisp.

Freemans on Wavertree Road in the 60s

We got off the bus at the top of Wavertree Road, and my nin said we needed to go into Freeman’s for something. (Freemans was a little department store in Edge Hill.) As we walked in, there was a sign pointing down to the basement and Father Christmas’s Grotto. Were we going to see him after all? The answer was “Yes!”.

My nin bought us two tickets for the North Pole Express. An elf led us into a darkened room, and we could hear train sounds and a whistle. Then a door opened, and we entered a tiny railway carriage with about 10 seats. We sat down, and then I could see a poorly painted backdrop through the window. It was a snow-covered pine forest. The carriage shuddered, and there were more train noises, and the scenery moved. I was only 4, but I could tell we were just sitting in a shed and someone was moving the scenery outside. Seconds later, we arrived at our destination. A door at the opposite end of the carriage opened, and someone led us out to the North Pole.

Father Christmas was sitting on a throne, and kids were queuing up to meet him. I thought he looked very familiar. When it was my turn, Father Christmas spoke to my Nin.

“Hiya, Lil! Who’s this little fella?”

“This is our Michael, Jean’s lad.”

“Ah, yeah. I know Michael.” He looked down at me and gave me a wink.

My nin knew Father Christmas?! And apparently Father Christmas knew me?! I was a shoo-in!

He sat me on his knee and said. “Alright Mike! Have you been a good boy?” I just nodded. I was painfully shy. Then he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I mumbled, “I want a bike.” He sucked in and said, “A bike, eh? A lot of boys are asking for bikes this year. I’ll see what I can do. Sometimes, If there’s a shortage, I have to make a substitution. I can’t promise you a bike, but you never know..” He took a small parcel wrapped in blue paper, out of his sack and handed it to me. His breath smelt of beer and ciggies. Then, I suddenly realised where I’d seen him before. On most Saturday afternoons during the summer, my dad would look after me, while my mum did the weekly shopping. He would take me with him to the betting shop, and I’d sit outside and wait. Then he would take me to the Chatham pub. I’d wait outside with a bottle of R.White’s Lemonade and a packet of Golden Wonder Cheese and Onion Crisps. I was pretty sure that “Father Christmas” would go to the Chatham on a Saturday Afternoon.

When we left TJ’s, it was already dark outside, and it was freezing cold. We walked back to my nin’s house. She made me a bowl of tomato soup, and we sat by the fire.

“Aren’t you going to open your present from Father Christmas?”

I’d almost forgotten about the gift. Inside, I found the familiar yellow box of a Matchbox car after ripping open the blue crepe paper. I was mad about toy cars, and I had almost cut my finger off a few weeks earlier, when a game using a beer bottle instead of a toy car went horribly wrong. But that’s another tale.

My nin looked at the clock and said, “Your mum will be home now.” So, I got my stuff together and walked home. Yep, I was 4 years old, and it was pitch dark, but I was allowed to walk home by myself. It was a strange time back then. Kids used to just roam around feral. Okay, so my nin lived at number 9 and we lived at 19. It was only 5 doors away, but I still had to cross a road.

When I got home, the front door was open, so I walked in. As I walked down the hall, I noticed that the parlour door was slightly open. Back in the day, it didn’t matter how poor you were; you probably had a front parlour in your house. The parlour was the best room in the house. Nobody was allowed in there, except maybe the queen if she happened to be passing, because it was so good. I had only been in the parlour once before and was amazed to find out we had a piano. So, I obviously took a peek around the door. There was nobody in there, but sitting on the rug was something I did not expect. A bright red Tri-ang pedal car.

Yikes! Is this thing mine?

My bottle went. What was going on? My head was spinning. Who did this belong to? I knew I shouldn’t be seeing this. I shouldn’t even be in this room. I sneaked back out and went into the living room. My mum was kneeling down in front of the grate trying to light the fire. The house was freezing, so she asked me to go and shut the front door. I pushed the front door shut and also quietly closed the parlour door too.

At this point in my life, I still believed that Father Christmas brought the presents. It hadn’t occurred to me that my mum and dad had bought the gifts and might have hidden the pedal car in the parlour. Then, the cogs in my brain started working. Father Christmas had given me a massive clue. He’d already told me that bikes were scarce. He’d mentioned that I might get a replacement present instead of a bike. Then he’d given me a Matchbox car as another clue. I was actually going to get a pedal car for Christmas.

I went back into the living room, and my mum had lit the fire and was sitting close by it smoking a ciggie. I sat on the couch with Smokey the cat on my knee.

“Where did Ninny take you today?”

I told her about the Dancing Waters and the train to the North Pole, how I knew it wasn’t real and meeting Father Christmas. When I told her I’d asked for a bike, she looked concerned. I said I wasn’t worried if I didn’t get a bike because he had told me I might get something else which was equally good.

I asked if it was Christmas Day the next day.

“No, it’s Saturday tomorrow. It’s not Christmas Day until Monday.”

My mum lit the Christmas tree lights and put the telly on. And she toasted some bread on the fire. Could life be any better than this?

Our Sue came in and immediately stood in front of the telly just to torment me. Then she changed channels, stole my toast and left the room. Our telly was one of those old ones with a dial. You literally had to tune it in. And there were only 2 channels, which were impossible to find.

My mum shouted, “Susan! Stop tormenting him!”

Sue is 7 years older than me, and she never stopped tormenting me until she left home in 1975.

I think my dad was out having a drink with his workmates because I never saw him before I went to bed.

The next day was great. The fire was lit when I came downstairs. My dad was cooking breakfast. The radio was on and my mum and dad would sing along. I was desperate to sneak into the parlour to see if my red car was still there. I didn’t get the chance.

During the afternoon, there was a loud knock on the door, and my dad went to answer it. He returned to the living room with a large cardboard box. My mum was excited. “It’s the Christmas Hamper!”

My dad brought a knife from the kitchen and cut the top off the box. Inside packed in straw and red cellophane were loads of tins and boxes of stuff I’d never heard of. Dates, chestnuts, a Dundee Cake a Christmas Pudding tinned mandarin slices, piccalilli, tinned ham. I’m pretty sure my mum and dad didn’t know what half the stuff was because we still had some tins years later. There was a box of shortbread biscuits. It was the first time I’d ever had shortbread, and I still love it today.

At about half past 7, it was time for me to go to bed. Going to bed in an old Victorian terraced house in the winter was like going on an Antarctic expedition. Pyjamas, a dressing gown, socks, mittens and a balaclava were the basic dress code plus a hot water bottle. My mum piled the bed high with army blankets and army overcoats. Once tucked in, you couldn’t move because the bedclothes were so heavy.

I don’t know what time it was when I woke up, but I was desperate for a wee. We didn’t have a bathroom or an indoor toilet, so a nighttime wee was something you did in a pot that was kept under the bed.

I slid out from under the pile of blankets. My nose was running like a tap. I was shivering. The lino on the floor was as cold as ice. It was pitch black, and I had to feel around for the pot. Then suddenly the room was lit up from outside the window. I pulled the curtain back. There was ice on the inside of the glass.I could make out coloured lights on the roof of the house opposite in the next street. Nobody had Christmas lights outside back then. Nobody could afford the electricity bill. I could make out a dark shape on the roof, and the lights were moving.

My frozen bedroom window (Not the 1967 bedroom)

“It’s Father Christmas!”

Then, a white beam of light shone into my face. Someone had spotted me. I crawled back into bed and hid under the blankets, my eyes shut tighter than tight. The next morning I woke up. It was Christmas Eve.

I had actually seen Father Christmas last night. He was on the roof of a house round the back. I opened the curtains again and wiped away the ice. There were no signs of any coloured lights on the roof. It was definitely his sleigh parked there last night; I swear.

The smell of the vegetables cooking for Sunday dinner filled the house. My mum would literally put the vegetables on the boil at 10 am for our Sunday roast at 3pm. The fire was blazing, and the living room was warm. My mum and dad were in the kitchen; our Sue was still in bed. Now was my chance to check on the car. From the living room, I snuck into the freezing cold hall. I turned the knob on the parlour door. I peeped my head through the gap. The car was gone.

I remembered that, last year, my mum had told me that if I tried to look at Father Christmas as he was delivering presents, I wouldn’t get anything except a piece of coal. And now the car was gone. I didn’t mean to see him last night, but I did, and he saw me.

All day long I was in a sulk. I wasn’t getting a bike; I wasn’t getting a Pedal Car; I was going to get a piece of coal.

By the time it was bedtime, I didn’t really want to go to bed What was the point. I’d wake up to some coal, and my mum and dad would realise I’d seen Father Christmas delivering and I was on the Naughty List.

I went to bed with my Christmas stocking, and I hung it at the end of my bed. I knew it would be empty in the morning. Eventually, I dropped off to sleep. And suddenly it was Christmas morning. Our Sue had a load of furniture for her Sindy Doll and Sindy now had a boyfriend called Paul. I pulled my stocking onto the bed. It was quite lumpy and heavy. I reached in and pulled out an apple, then a tangerine and some walnuts and then a long thin box. I tore open the wrapping paper. It was Action Man. There was also a games compendium and a selection box and the Bimbo book. I was glad I’d got something. It wasn’t a pedal car, though. When I heard my mum and dad get up, I went downstairs with my presents and showed them what I’d got.

The Christmas tree was lit up, and underneath it were more presents from my aunties and uncles. Christmas hadn’t turned out too bad after all.

After about 20 minutes, I decided I needed my morning wee. This meant I had to get fully dressed to venture out to the toilet in the backyard. When I came back indoors from the arctic wasteland, there was a large parcel wrapped in brown paper sitting in front of the fire. My mum said, “That’s from your dad.”

I ripped the paper open to reveal a red wooden wheelbarrow. Now, that’s something I wasn’t expecting for Christmas. My dad had made it. It was great, but… a wheelbarrow. It had my name on the back, printed with a Dymo label maker. I piled all my presents in it and pushed it around the living room. I was still disappointed. But to be fair, it was a decent haul.

Then, my mum and dad said they thought they had heard someone going into the parlour last night. I realised they had caught me. I could feel myself going red. My dad suggested, “Why don’t you go and see if there is anything there?” I was confused at that point. Was I in trouble, or were they just messing with my head? I went to the parlour and pushed the door open . My mum, dad and our Sue followed. I walked in and there on the rug was a blue Sunbeam Tricycle.

“Surprise! MERRY CHRISTMAS”

Of course, I burst into tears.

Later that day I was out on my new bike (it was secondhand really.) riding up and down the street.

There were other kids on bikes and roller skates. I noticed there was a lad in a red pedal car being pushed along by his dad. I rode down the road to check it out. The kid was too small to reach the pedals. His dad looked up when he saw me and gave me a wink.

“Nice bike!”

It was the man from the Chatham Pub.

I tried to wink back, but I didn’t know how. So I just said, “Merry Christmas!”