Old photo

Christmas 1965

Can you spare shillings or two?

Growing up in Pomeroy St, Christmas wasn’t just about church, presents and food there was a certain coin of the realm need in the Ugarte household, without which there would be no Christmas.

The old Shilling

Our Christmas could be ruin for the lack of a ‘shillings’ need to feed the bloody coin meters in the house. With the gas and electricity metered, both taking shillings and the all-important television in the same boat the need for the precious Shillings and acquiring them was important. Thinking back one shilling would last in the television four or five hours at a time. I can’t remember about the gas or electricity, but it must have been a bit longer.

Christmas Eve was always busy, mum would hand out our jobs with the shillings hunt landing on my lap while Dad would head to town to get fresh veg and fruit. Has soon as I got up, washed and had breakfast I would be out the door. First shop to get a visit would be Saddles, a small corner shop around the corner from my house. You would need to buy something to prise the precious the precious coin out of the till. I would look dejected if Mr or Mrs Saddle worked around the possibly of having a shillings in my change, forcing me to ask if they had a few spare.

Then I would cross over the road on my way to the next shop stopping off at my Uncle Joe and Tony’s house, to see if they had any. Blodwyn would empty the contents of their pockets on the table and search and I could be in line for a few bob myself, one of the benefits of the job.

Down the road to Marion’s another corner shop to see if I could part them from a few more shillings who were always help. Marion was always helpful and would do her best to fill my hands with shillings. The short wonder home to see if mum consider there was enough for the Christmas holiday period. Come the evening mum could give me my final job knocking around some neighbours to dig up the final few.

We always ended up with enough and would be ok over holiday period, but mum was never happy unless the pile on top of the TV looked right. This article is based 1970 some 43 years-ago and even today it might not be shillings, but tokens I will need to make sure we are top-up for Christmas.

Christmas by Glenys Ugarte

Just a couple of things I remember at Christmas as a child. I have always loved the weeks running up to Christmas, and remember one particular.

Val, Ian and I went on my mum’s works trip to the pantomime, my older brother and sisters, Russell, Brenda and Sue must have been too old or didn’t want to go so Val was put in charge of looking after us. I was only about 5 years old when we go off to our coach. I saw masses and masses of coaches all lined up dropping hundreds of kids off from all over England and Wales.

Once in the Panto, we had loads of sweets and prizes it was so much fun we really enjoyed ourselves.

Home time Val made a tiny little mistake and put us on the wrong coach. We sat on a coach full of strange kids with funny accents and soon Val realised we were on the wrong coach. Instead of heading home to Llanrumney, we were on mystery of the valleys.

The coach driver stopped and called the police told them we were on the wrong coach, the three of us ended up in the back of a police car, mum was on the doorstep waiting and worrying because we were not on the coach “trust Val”. She said “she knew it all”, mum thanked the police she wasn’t impressed with us though. As always, I got away with it because I was so young.

I loved dads works Christmas Party, every year we’d go and had an awesome time, food, games and present from Father Christmas, Oh come on stay with me I was only 5 years old. Val and Ian grew too old for the party and eventually I was going to the party with my three lovely nieces (Brenda’s girls), Annemarie, Eleanor and Elaine. Oh, wish those days were back.

Christmas Eve, at home, we would take delivery of a Turkey from Mr Fosters, a farmer Dad would help from time to time. He would drop the bird off still with the feathers on and Dad and Mr Foster would head to the pub for a few drinks leaving the plucking of the bird to the woman of the house. Mum had no problem plucking the bird and I liked to help then washed and stuff it would go into the oven to cook over night. All the veg was than prepared ready for the big day.

I remember once many years ago being sent to bed one Christmas Eve waking up about 4am to see if Father Christmas had come. I had my stocking full of goods on my bed so he had been. Creeping downstairs to what else was under the tree it was not Father Christmas I surprised, but my dad finishing painting the living room door and was quickly shooed back to bed. Once we got up presents was given and dad would go to the pub for a pint while mum was making dinner. So much fun...

Over the last couple of years, we’ve had our difficulties. The house has finally been adapted downstairs and I’m able to get round the ground floor in the wheelchair. Simon and David occupy the upstairs there own bachelor pad. We are all well James has his own place and is doing ok. Simon is still working for the Royal Mail and David is working in Ikea. We plan this year to have a nice quiet Christmas. Well boys are now men so it doesn’t seem the same as when they were little...

A Past Christmas Memory

We’d wake up to a cold house, no central heating just two-coal fires, both long gone out.

The smell of a turkey slow cooking through the night fills the air. There is a sock on my bed full of little treats chocolate, sweets and fruit, Farther Christmas has been, surprisingly I must have been good this year.

With no idea of the time, it must be excessively early for Mum and Dad with shouts of ‘back to bed’ coming from their bedroom. I wondered if they sat up all night just waiting to catch us. We would try repeatedly to sneak downstairs only to be thwarted repeatedly in our task.

Then it was time, my parent’s door would open and with a smile mum would say ‘go on then’. Crash, bang, wallop and we push the door to the middle room and for a few minutes our own personal toy shop. Sister was too young to join in she had no idea about Christmas and the pleasure it brings to a young child.

Time to make the fire, the old ash from the previous night is clean away the wrapping paper from our present comes in handy straight into the fire grate with some wood and some old coals with some new coal. Dad would light the fire if it looked like it was not catching alight he would then help it along by drawing the fire with a sheet of newspaper across the front of the fireplace. It would increase the draught, which helped the fire to 'draw' and light. Sometime the paper would start to turn brown and if you failed to take it away, it would catch fire.

The room would soon warm up and we would be stuck into our presents.

The selection box emptied full of my favourite, but for the fudge finger, I would soon swapped or discarded it. No breakfast has we have filled up on chocolate and other treats. Television time with the TV Times showing ITV open their Christmas schedule before the BBC with Sing a Song Christmas at 8:15 but there was no time to hang about we had to dress for church.

We would always have a new outfit for church it was really the only time I would really dress up.

Christmas memory 1970 Part 2 next Christmas

Eat your greens, but not mine I like them now

A STROUT

Mainly in my young years, well until I was 25-years-old, I hate Brussels sprouts and all other greenery with the exception of peas.

That Christmas time the humble sprout comes in for a lot of stick, which I believe, is unnecessarily, now. I don’t know why the sprout is synonymous with Christmas dinner maybe because they were seasonally years ago. Has a child, into my teens and early adulthood, I hated them! Mum would insist on putting them on my plate along with other kinds of greens, knowing I only like peas. I would push the mass of green stuff to the side of the plate while giving mum the evil eye.

The years roll by and the offensive pile got small and small until it just stopped, I had won the war, the fourteen-year war by my reckoning. Thinking back, but for peas, my plate would be green free and look a bit pale. Potatoes, roasties’, turkey and peas, luckily I liked gravy. I was greens, sprouts free until the age 25 years-old, the reason for my newfound enjoyment of the greenery stuff stops at the door of future mother-in-law.

That my first Sunday dinner at her house she quickly put me in my place has I reeled off my list of dislikes. She told me to grow up, proceeded to piled allsorts greenery on to my plate, and kept her eye on me, just to make sure I was lapping it up. I insist on my sprouts are well boiled, so they melt in the mouth. I am not a fan of crunchy vegetables and sick of the likes of Gordon Ramsey tell me vegetables would taste better lightly cooked, keeping the crunch and flavour.

The spout comes from Afghanistan, Iran and Pakistan area finding its way to the Belgian capital of Brussels in the sixteenth century. By the late nineteenth century, they had arrived in the UK.

In memory of my mother-in-law Lillian McCowen

Guinness Book of Records 1972

Without fail, either my brother or I would receive the Guinness Book of Records among our Christmas annuals, remember them.

I think most young lads I would look to see if they include the likes’ for the world biggest or smallest penis or some other, sexual oddities like biggest pair of breast. It was always the oddities that I was interested to seek out, the fattest or skinniest someone in the world. Food entries were always good who eat the most in a minute or something like that. After getting over the stupid childless period, it was always an interesting read.

On the subject of World Records my record for wolfing down a large pie was set a number of years ago. It was just under three minutes and it was flaming hot and I am a nibbler.

When does Christmas lose its sparky?

I thought long and hard about this and for me it was around 14 for me. From then on, it was more about my sisters and later my own children.

My Christmas comes from giving not receiving I loved to watch others opening present than me opening mine. I have never fallen out of love with Christmas, I still love the whole build-up, but I’m a bit nonplus about receiving presents, just chuck me a few quid in an envelope and I will be happy.

If I wanted something particular I‘d rather buy it myself, hopefully get it cheaper in the January sales, save some money. My kids are the same an envelope with a few bits and pieces around the tree, no more waking at dawn or earlier, they just trot down sometime in the morning. Last Christmas I told everyone my all-time favourite Christmas present, it was my ‘Red Mk2 Chopper’ it was the bees and knees and I loved that bike. That was until I felt the need for spend and bought a racing bike.

This Christmas I feel the need to share my all-time least favourite Christmas gift, socks and underwear which can be thrown in with bloody socks.

I would rather a bar of chocolate or the bloody money any socks/underwear. I did mind if they were part of a packages as a kid. I think mum felt a bit guilty as I grow older and was considerate more on my sisters Christmas presents.

I knew money was tight but she failed to take in that I had my Christmases it was their turn now, I could just do without the socks/underwear. I do like the odd novelty socks they give me a bit of the chuckle, but plain socks just make me think, why bother.

Christmas Party

Dad worked at Currans and we always looked forward to the Christmas kid’s party at the old Currans Club. Straight from work Dad would take us on the long walk to the party through street all lit up with Christmas trees in most houses on our route. It’s something you don’t see much of these days.

Once at the party Dad would prop up the bar for an hour or so it was just too far to go home and come back unless he got a lift. It was a great night meeting kids for all over Cardiff with a few Docks kids thrown into the mix, but never many Asians kids. Currans had a large Asians workforce, mostly working the night shift, a shift not many other workers were would do but dad would be up for a shift or two.

There was always a plenty to eat all paid for with a small levy in the wages of the workers. It’s a long time ago but I seem to remember the presents on offer were better than most you got at these kinds of parties. It helped if you kept your wits about you at the end of the evening and with the arrival of Father Christmas, it was present time.

I remember the Owen family taking my brother and me to a Christmas party once and Santa gave my worst ever Christmas present … a DOLL. At the Currans party, I had the whole situation sorted they would call you up in groups like 5, 6 and so on boys and girls would line up and get a present. I would jump a year or two in search of the better toy and back at the table I would open it and hopefully hit the jackpot.

Our Christmas

Wifey and I have never spent a Christmas together, just the two of us. We actually meet at a Christmas party in 1983 she was the red face girl, pint in hand looking worse for wear. I was asked what I thought of her, eyeing her up from a distance I announced she was not for me.

She started too grown on me as a mate part of the group. Just two mates having a laughter and a joke but towards the end of the summer of 1984 I had develop a secret lusting for her. She was dating and so was I, kind of, so I stared a campaign of subterfuge. It worked and by January 1985, we were a couple married by October.

Christmas 1985 there we were in our flat on Allansbank Road across the road from the old cemetery sitting at our little table in the bay window looking out on to the empty road and street reminiscing about past Christmas. Who would have believed the year previous that we were being a married couple? Between us we knock-up a decent Christmas dinner, turkey with all the trimmings, but the arrival of family end our day of just us.

Better before the hype

Before the hype, Christmas seems to be less commercialized and a lot more innocent before the early eighties and I know where to lay the blame, Maggie Thatcher, the yuppies and the women version the Sloane Ranger set. It was the arrival of my children that really opened my eyes to changes with the must have toy which always sold out and toyshops such as Toys r us coming the Cardiff.

Has a child myself Christmas started in November while today in September in stores and supermarkets are plugging Christmas. Harrods in London opened their Christmas World department a full 151 days before the big day, in July.

No more trips into town to watch a Christmas parade and see Father Christmas arrived at one of the big town centre department stores, for instants the C&A. The streets would be packed with people all along the route, today you stand around the bandstand while some celebrity Z lister switches on the lights.

Then there is the Winter Wonderland with an Open Air Ice Rink. Has a child there was an abundance of traditional Department Stores in the town centre with a Santa’s grotto the C&A and David Morgan where our favourite. We never questioned why they was a Father Christmas in all the stores, it was all done be some kind of magic The shops would have window displays real ones full of toys not like today some tinsel scattered around. David Morgan’s was very popular but today is no more.

I remember one year at the old C&A were we climbed into a rocket ship to visit Father Christmas at the North Pole. We were little innocents, believing in Father Christmas and were going to see him at the North Pole. However, today you know someone was outside shaking the rocket and the stars passing the window were on some kind of a paper roll. Cutting edge of technology back in the day but today department stores have Father Christmas in the corner of the store behind a curtain.

 

Here we are again and in the words of the great Noddy Holder ‘It’s Christmas’, well Christmas time anyway. If you don’t like Christmas than find yourself a cupboard, open the door and hibernate after reading our blog of course.