Writing for Fun
Winter - Joan Bond
December 2014
I hate winter. There that's out of the way. But I have to admit it is winter that gives us Christmas parties.
I was an only child; maybe they saw me and thought NO! Or both parents coming from large families knew what poverty large families created.
Or thinking seriously about it, my mother was actually very clever, she spent the last year at school in the head mistress's room doing admin work as she had completed all the curriculum. The school wanted her to go to college but her mum said she couldn't do it for one and not the others, even though the headmistress said she would pay the fees.
She did have a very good job in the office of the London Co-operative Society but you had to leave if married. They actually went to the acceptance of letting her wear her ring around her neck for years but a large bump under her skirt would be a bit much. Dad was a carpenter but had to have six months off work with Rheumatic fever so money was getting hard.
Anyway when I met my husband to be, he had three brothers and three sisters. It was great, a bit overwhelming at first . . . and they had these parties where you didn't just play games like 'I Spy'. His dad was an upholsterer and he worked from home. Not that his missus saw him much because he loved the piano; his brother Maxie was on the stage with Marie Lloyd, or so he said, anyway if he delivered a settee or chair to a customer who had a piano he would end up spending hours just playing the thing. Incidentally the form of delivery was a trailer comprising two wooden Curno lemonade boxes on pram wheels behind his bike.
He was a skinny little fella always known as Tiny. When he was working you didn't get a word out of him as he always had a mouth full of tacks but he would do anything to keep his family happy.
He had one terrible drawback to four young couples, all courting and only one front room, which had to be shared. 'Cos you would just get comfortable and he would come in and ask if anyone fancied a few chips then get comfy, light his dog-end from the fire and start telling stories.
Mother on the other hand was always secretly buying something for Christmas every week on the quiet, hiding it away so dad didn't know, in case he thought they couldn't afford it. He knew all the time of course but carried on the game to keep her happy. She was round and very chubby bit too chubby 'cos when she cuddled the grandchildren they didn't have much room on her lap and nearly fell off when she laughed; she had snow white hair which was worn up in a bun. This was to conceal a lump she had on her head. The boys tried several times to get her to a doctor to get it removed but no way, she even pulled her own teeth out when necessary 'cos she didn't like dentists either.
Her name was Polly, well it wasn't really, but that's what everyone called her. She had a friend next door, Mrs Smith, knew her for forty years but she was still Mrs Smith. Bit of a scandal there as Albert, Tiny's son, 'cos they were both married before, was older, and the three boys were always under his feet. He had been a Sergeant Major in the war, never married but still dressed immaculately and liked the place Bristol Fashion. So he moved in with Mrs Smith. Well – and I say well – I know he had his own bed, because he took me up to his room one day to see his jigsaw puzzles on the wall. That was before etchings, of course. After making them up he stuck them on a bit of board and hung them.
Polly was scared of Mrs Smith, a tall well set woman, she looked: like a Sergeant Major too and whenever we visited Polly we had to go into see the old gorgon first then after half an hour you would hear Polly rattling the old ashes in the fireplace and it would be time for us to leave.
Well these parties, imagine this, small three bed house and all the family: Albert, Jim, Sid, Bertie, their girl friends, Joyce, Doris and myself. Sisters Mabel Lucy and Grace and their blokes Pete, George and Stan, Aunt Grace, Effel, Enid (she was the one after a few gins would always sing, 'There's a long long trail a winding' and Dolly. She had on one occasion been given a pair of drawers made from a Union Jack. She always brought her own bottle of Cherry Brandy and you knew when the party was at its height when she showed the drawers in Knees Up Mother Brown.
I was seventeen and although only given cocktails, well snowballs, was singing and dancing with the rest. 'Cause Tiny was on the joanna, readily supplied with jar or two, and we Rolled Out The Barrel all night; many of the neighbours dropped in with a bottle 'cos the Bondys parties were renowned, and if you can't fight them join in!
We all had to stay overnight as no one had a car and we couldn't all get in the curno box cart, so it was three to a bed, couple hung on the clothes line and the rest wherever they fell, but it was all a bloody good time, and we were none of us the worse for it. Hooray!
