Reader’s letter: Memories of Christmas

During Christmas 1949 I lived in Post Office yard, Newark Hill, Foston — no longer there.

Foston was a self-sufficient village with two pubs, surgery, post office/shop, a bakery/ shop, butchers, phone box on Main Street and maybe five other private telephones.

It being Christmas Eve us village urchins, mostly from Post Office Yard, a couple from Church Street and a couple from Long Street, assembled with a couple of lanterns and the odd torch (no street lights then).

No house escaped our rendition of Good King Wenceslas. Although I suspect many would have preferred to hide under the kitchen table, most gave generously.

The highlight of the night was when we reached Mrs Pilkington down Long Street. She always put a big spread on for us and gave us a chance to get warm.

After we completed our round it was back to the Black Boy pub as it had a light above the front door where we divided the takings equally, then home to bed.

The next morning I received my presents — an orange and the book Black Beauty.

It is certainly a different world today.

Back then we only hoped for a good tomorrow (and mostly got one).

I hope to have made you smile. — J. HARDY, South-end.