Christmas 1959

Memories of Christmas 1959

Thinking back over the years to nineteen fifty nine; and how that last Sunday before Christmas had been quite mild. Yes; I know I will always remember that Sunday. As for me, it was very special,

I remember leaving our house that morning, and having crossed the road to the engine field, I could see Tom and Bill already sitting on the stile that gave access to the railway shunting yard. That stile was our meeting place, and had been for as long as we could walk.

I still remember how as I took my usual place, I already had a feeling that this day was to be different.

Bill and I were now fifteen, and that meant we could leave school and get a job, While Tom, well Tom he was a year younger. This Sunday we sat in an unusual silence, until Bill asked me.

“When are you going to look for a job?”  His question brought me back, as my thoughts had been on Friday, my last day at school. At that time I hadn’t felt it had been anything but a normal end of term day. That evening we had walked home as usual.  Bill and myself had been carrying our personal bits after clearing our desks. (Oh yes, in those days you could leave things in your desk.) But I don’t think it had sunk in. Now sitting on the stile and hearing Bill ask about me getting a job, it did. Yet I know my answer of.

“I’ve got one.” Was unexpected, as I could see how Bill was surprised as he asked

“Got one, when?” So I told them.

“Yesterday morning, I called in at Sinclair Electrical, where I saw Mr Sinclair, and he said I have to start on Monday as an apprentice. What about you?” I Asked. “Have you got anywhere?”

Bill’s reply surprised me, as his father worked for the council, and I had expected him to put in a word for Bill with them.

“I’ve got to go to Nylon Spinners tomorrow for an interview; I don’t know what for, but my dad says if I get on at Nylon Spinners, I’m set for life.” That was a surprise; everyone knew that to get a job at Nylon Spinners meant you had to have someone working there to put in a word for you. So I asked.

“How did you manage that?”

“The school arranged it for me.” I remember thinking ‘Trust the West class to get all the perks.’

Tom, I could see looked none too happy, and I think he had been the only one to see just how this was going to affect the three of us. For twelve years this stile had been our Sunday morning meeting place. There had been nine years of walking to school together, infants, junior and senior, and now Tom would have to walk down the back lane on his own. It was Tom who said.

“Let’s make a pact. We can still meet here every Sunday.” I know it was without thinking when I replied. 

“Yes, let’s do that. There’s no reason we can’t.” But it never happened, we never did meet again on a Sunday.

It’s still clear in my mind how we sat, not really saying much, just sitting and watching as the trains went past, until Tom said.

“I don’t suppose we shall be going blackberry picking anymore.”

“There will still be Sundays.” I told him, but I think we all knew it wouldn’t happen.

As usual on a Sunday, old Mr Thompson, one of the railway workers who lived in the square came down the path carrying his bike; as we always did, we helped him get the bike over the stile. I think even he noticed something was amiss.

“Bit sombre this morning isn’t we.” He asked as he struggled to climb over the stile.

 “Just talking.” We replied.

Thinking about it, I wonder if he wondered what had happened to us the following week. I never saw him again, as he died not long after Christmas.

Yes we sat there full of good intentions. We were still making plans about them as we walked back for our dinners, but like all good intentions, they came to nothing. That was the last Sunday we met at the stile and watched the trains go by.

Bill, well he got his job at Nylon Spinners, and for many years I never saw him. I occasionally see him now he’s retired; peddling on his bike to and from one of the little gardening jobs he does for his old ladies. That what he calls the pensioners whose gardens he keeps tidy. Thinking about it, for some reason they all seem to be ladies.

It’s funny how the years change things, he was the only one then who couldn’t ride a bike and never had one.

Tom, I haven’t seen or heard from him since the early sixties. I did hear he had joined the police force, but that’s all.

And myself, well you know.