“Our First Electric Radio”

The approach of September, was the signal for Mother Nature to slowly don her gold and bronze coat of autumn. The whole countryside was gradually transformed into a kaleidoscope of colours. Leaves on trees in various shades of yellow, brown, copper and red each leaf translucent in the early autumn sunshine.
Hedgerows, were heavy with wild berries of varying colours and sizes, wild clematis – old man’s beard we knew it as – intertwined amongst the bramble bushes that were carrying blackberries in abundance some matured and some still developing and red in colour. These bushes would soon be stripped of their produce either by birds or by potential amateur wine makers. Spider’s webs had formed in the hedgerows at irregular intervals. , whitened by the early fog and frosts In the early morning mists they stood out starkly and eerily.
In the skies above, black crows cawed and seagulls shrieked as they followed the horse drawn plough in a nearby field, as it tilled the rich brown soil in readiness for the winter sowing of wheat and barley.
As the weather conditions turned more autumnal and the days shortened, our outdoor activities were somewhat curtailed. This meant spending more and more time at home during the evenings. Oh, how I hate the dark evenings! Sometimes we were allowed to visit our friends in their homes on the estate for the evening. On these occasions cardboard boxes were brought out from the cupboards, containing games of Snakes and Ladders, Ludo and Draughts or for the more patient among us jigsaw puzzles, how odd that it was always the last piece that was missing, never the first?
On very rare occasions, depending whether Mum and Dad were on speaking terms, some of our friends were invited around to our house for the evening. When these friends came they were mostly my sister Dorothy’s friends. If Mum was in a sociable mood she would allow Dorothy to have some of her old dresses to play with and for her and her friends to dress up in. While they were dressed up they usually pretended to be in a play which was made up as they went along. The backdrop for their plays was an old sheet draped over a large drying frame – brought from the kitchen – and stood in front of the door from the hallway to the lounge. The open door was used as a stage entrance. Some of their performances were very amusing and enjoyable. If I tired of what I was doing I would pretend to play the piano for their background music. I could no more play the piano than fly to the moon. All I did was to tickle the ivories, I thought it sounded good anyway!
Excitement mounted at the ‘Bluecoat’ school as the magic of Christmas approached. Coloured strips of paper, gummed at each end, were stuck together and interlocked to form colourful paper chains. These were festooned from near the electric light in the middle of the classroom, one to each corner of the room and held in place with drawing pins. Some of our paper chains were also draped around the large windows of the room. A vase of holly stood on the three windowsills each piece held several bright red berries. On the walls around the classroom were watercolour paintings of the festive scenes as we thought it might have looked like. The ‘nativity scene’ was retrieved from its storage cupboard, dusted off, and displayed in a corner of the class on a seasonally decorated table. Before the Christmas holiday our teachers took us, across the road to the church of St Mary the Virgin for a carol service. Most parents were in attendance, but not ours.
Away from school, a Christmas party was usually organised for the children of Synwell. These parties were held in what was called ‘Synwell Hut’. The hut was situated just off Synwell Green, on land adjacent to the ‘Full Moon’ public house. It was I believe owned by the British Legion.
The parties were always very well organised and attended. At the parties there was always plenty of the obligatory jelly and ice cream, cakes, fizzy pop, cracker and silly party hats.
The interior of the hut was usually decked with oodles of festive decorations. Brightly coloured paper chains – made and donated by pupils from the ‘Bluecoat’ – adorned the metal rafters of the hut. Other decorations were made from crepe paper, serrated along the edges and twisted together to form a feather like effect. Balloons in a wide variety of colours, shapes and sizes were suspended in-groups between the paper trimmings. Sprigs of holly, some heavy with red berries were placed around the room in vases on windowsills, some was placed around picture frames and around the large noticeboard. Wads of cotton wool had been glued around the bottom window panes to create the effect of snowfall outside. Mistletoe, for use by the adults, was placed discreetly above the main door. A glass or two of amber nectar (from the adult bar) mistletoe and the seasonal atmosphere would somehow bring about a personality change in some of the so-called grown-ups. The effects of drinking too much alcohol by the elders resulted, I seem to remember, in more than one row breaking out.
Near the end of the party we were asked to line up, in single file. Then we were called by name, to step forward and meet Father Christmas who was sat near the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, from where we each received a small present from under the tree. I now knew where Mr Parker – one of the party organisers had disappeared too. Our presents were usually a ‘Dinky’ toy car or lorry in a box, or a box containing a couple of painted lead soldiers. For the girls there were dolls, some in boxes, or boxes containing jigsaw puzzles. Everyone was pleased and excited with what they had received. The hut was a hive of chatter and parcel opening as we all got together to see what present the other had received.
The tree in the corner was beautifully decorated with baubles, bangles, tinsel and small pieces of cotton wool to simulate a snowstorm. On top of the tree was a large silver star, which shimmered under the soft lights of the hut.
After we had all eaten the trestle tables and chairs were all cleared away to enable us to start our party fun and games. The games were usually musical chairs, pass the parcel, or blind man’s bluff. The winners of these games received either tins of watercolour paints or reading books.
So that the adults could have a breather from entertaining us we were all asked to sit around in a circle on the floor so that our Sunday school teacher (from the Oliver Memorial Chapel) could lead prayers and us with Christmas carols.
At the end of the party, around seven o’clock, we would be taken home, exhausted, to bed. However tired we may have been we always managed to wake up excitedly in the small hours of the morning to see what Santa Claus had brought us. The socks that we had hung up the night before had magically been filled with hazel nuts, brazil nuts, a couple of rosy red apples and a large orange. Santa Claus, being a very busy man at that time of year had forgotten to leave us a pair of nutcrackers! Which meant that one of us had to steal downstairs to the kitchen and fetch a pair. The result of our early morning feast would be a bed full of nutshells and pieces of orange peal, not very conducive to comfortable sleeping. As daylight slowly began too filter through the bedroom curtains we could hear Dad up and about, busily lighting the coal fire in the front room and preparing our breakfast. On Christmas morning we were not allowed out of bed until Dad called us down. After arriving downstairs, still wearing our pyjamas, we had breakfast in the kitchen, before Dad allowed us into the front room to open our Christmas presents which awaited us under the Christmas tree. The fire, in the front room, that Dad had lit earlier was burning steadily with yellow and orange flames dancing amid the ascending blue smoke as it drifted slowly up the chimney. The room felt warm and cosy as we sat on the floor opening our presents. All around Wotton-under-Edge the peal of church bells could be heard beckoning the faithful to Christmas morning worship. As children I can never remember our parents ever encouraging us as far as religion was concerned, although I do recall attending the Oliver Memorial Chapel, in Synwell, on a Sunday afternoon. Time has taken away the Sunday school teacher’s name from my memory, but I do remember her as being a very tall and slim woman with short blonde curly hair. She was always smartly dressed, usually wearing a navy blue skirt and a matching jacket, over a white blouse with a single string of pearls around her neck.
Christmas and the New Year passed so quickly when we were young. In those days, just after the war, there was no such thing as a New Year’s holiday for Dad and his work mates. The only holidays that they had was Christmas Eve, if they were lucky, Christmas Day and Boxing Day and then it was back to work for them until Easter.

To be continued …………………………………