Christmas when you were young


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I suppose I was very lucky as every Christmas sempt good, my dad worked at Babbington pit and my mum worked at Weldons so money was probably not an issue to them. But having said that I didn't get as many presents as my kids and the grand kids do, still I was happy!

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This was always a treat as a child, to visit Santa's Grotto at the Co-op. I would be about 7 here. Camel coat, matching scarf and hat, socks and brown lace up shoes. got a much wanted wooden pencil ca

Got this one Christmas (that's me) then missed Boxing Day & New Year after old Hercules (I loved that dog) ran after a train!

The first Christmas I recall would be in Southglade Road Bestwood Estate.  Me and my late big Sis sitting in bed with Mum and Dad very early.  Still dark outside. This would be around 1953. Certa

nnssc (or anyone else)  #26: Can you explain to me the difference between Babbington and Cinderhill pits, please?  When I joined the NCB in 1967 there was just the one pit on the site, we knew as Babbington - the one with the concrete winding gear housings.

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1 hour ago, Compo said:

nnssc (or anyone else)  #26: Can you explain to me the difference between Babbington and Cinderhill pits, please?  When I joined the NCB in 1967 there was just the one pit on the site, we knew as Babbington - the one with the concrete winding gear housings.

 

According to this book nothing!

 

IMG_3415_zpsdls7gqpk.jpg

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This was always a treat as a child, to visit Santa's Grotto at the Co-op. I would be about 7 here. Camel coat, matching scarf and hat, socks and brown lace up shoes. got a much wanted wooden pencil case. Legs crossed cos I needed a wee.coopsanta_zpsactqlx5n.jpg

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My two sisters and I would have jumbo colouring book each with a tin of paints ,a tin of sharps toffees and new clothes for our dolls which mam knitted ,we usually got some sort of children annual the other kids in the yard would get different ones so we could swop later.

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You just reminded me of the Magic colouring books, where you had a jam jar of water, and a paint brush. You'd paint with the water and the colours appeared on your picture. Kept me entertained for hours.

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Those magic painting books were good but when I attempted to paint summat the water always ran onto the adjoining colours and made the final product more like a Turner than a Constable  :crazy:

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22 hours ago, philmayfield said:

Lord Lucan is still living in the cellars of the old vicarage down our lane. See my post of 6th. February.

 

Found the post Phil....I was living in Nottingham at the time and never knew they had been looking for the Big L in Notts.  

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When my brother and I were small, before my sister was born, my maternal grandparents used to visit on Xmas Day for their dinner and an evening of watching telly (They didn't have a TV set).  My grandfather always used to come up and make sure we were well tucked-in for the night before he left.  Little did we know that this Great War veteran and sweet old gentleman was a reformed drunk who used to beat my grandmother until he took the Good Templar pledge of abstinence. He used to be a bit of an AM-Dram and he once played the part of a character called "Pop".  To we kids he was always "Pop, fizz, lemonade" :)

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Yes - as I was told, by friend of mine in the village "who knows everything" this was one of the first places the police searched. The owner, who has since died, was a big gambler and held regular gaming parties at his house. This was confirmed when the subject of Lord Lucan was referred to at his funeral a couple of years ago in the Minster at Southwell. I was joking about the cellar. Here, in the Trent Valley, the water table is too high for cellars!

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Remember the christmas's we had in the 60,s when we lived in st anns, we were poor but i don't know how but our parents always managed to buy us toys and stuff , not easy when you have 4 kids .

We had to go to bed early on Christmas eve , and our Dear old mum would say go to sleep and see wot santa brings you in the morning .

I was so excited to sleep so had to pretend , and had to stifle a giggle ,when i heard my dad creep in the bedroom and put a plastic bag full of goodies on the bed , i knew it wasnt santa cos i don't think he rolls his own golden virginia tobacco !

That year  it snowed very heavy about 2 foot of the stuff, but that didnt deter me and me brother kev dressed up in our cowboy gear guns and all,

I said come on stand up there about 12 feet apart on Leicester street , st anns , i said one the count of three we will have a gunfight , just then a man with a dog walked by , it was a great bloomin big saint bernard dog , which put both paws on kevs shoulders and licked his face , but burying him in the snow at the same time , happy days !!!!

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On 12/31/2016 at 3:03 AM, Cliff Ton said:

Santa's beard has almost completely dropped off his face.

That's the effect of the whisky i reckon !!!

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Just putting memories down what Christmas was like when I was young.

 

Well Christmas dinner was at the time Pork, next if you had a few £ to spear you would have a Chicken, then along came the TURKEY!!!

Saturday morning it was down to the cattle market with my dad to buy the turkey, then home it came and it was hung on a large hook down in the cellar. Each time I came home from school, it was down the cellar to pluck some feathers out of it. Next step was to take the turkey down to grans, for her to clean it, eg remove inside bits and bobs.  

Then Christmas day cook slowly. 

One year my dad being my dad always tried to find and buy the biggest turkey they had,. one year the turkey was so big it would not fit in the oven so it was cut in half,  supermarkets you have nothing on us as we buy one and get one free.

 

Please feel free to put your memories down of Christmas Past.

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  • Cliff Ton changed the title to Christmas when you were young

Talking of  Christmas past, I vividly remember when I was a lad I worked at a butchers on Ilkeston road, from the age of 11 to 14, ( when we moved to Kennington road). At the run up to Christmas the butchèr took orders for chickens and then a week or so before the 25th, we got the delivery of the birds, which seemed to me to be hundreds and then after school I would nip home , get my tea and back to the shop to start 'dressing' the chickens', ie, feet off heads off and then the dubious delight of gutting the birds. One of my jobs was to sort out the entails and separate the heart, liver, gizzard and neck, which were bagged up for the customer to make gravy. We worked until about 10.00pm and once 11.30pm. So from the age of 11 I had learned, and could dress a bird. But I could never get used to the horrible stink of guts.

All for the princly sum of 12/6d plus a meat joint a week, ( although I did get extra for the evenings).

I was a dab hand at making sausage meat and beef dripping.

Happy days !!

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My dad used to keep chickens in the back garden. He sold then oven ready at Christmas. I was involved in the whole process from killing to gutting. It made me the hard bastard I still am today - and no, don't send me a begging letter BK. Get your own miserable £10 pittance!

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When I was a child, my father always ordered the Christmas meat from a butcher on Denman Street, in addition to a large pork pie.  He was very particular about his meat and he insisted on getting it from that particular shop, although I don't know the name of it. It wasn't usually poultry as my mother didn't care for goose or turkey.

 

On Christmas Eve, he would finish work early and on his way to join us at Garden Street for mince pies and home made elderberry wine, he'd call in at the butcher's and collect his order.

 

I remember eating pork pie for breakfast on Christmas morning. It was a tradition.  Not eaten meat since 1977 and have no plans to resume the practice.

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