Christmas in the Fifties (in Rural West Cork)

by Nuala Ní Loinsigh © 2012

Christmas was a special time in my childhood, full of excitement and activity. In early December, the writing of letters and cards involved us children, as my mother gathered ideas from us. This task was done on a Sunday night, when Dad went for a scoráiocht (visiting the neighbours) and we had Mom to ourselves. The two most important letters were sent to Sr. Patricia in Manchester and Sr. Cecilia in Glasgow, my father's sisters. Her letters were not very long but conveyed the most recent news of the family. Each letter had a postal order for ten shillings enclosed, a generous sum from a family who had little to spare. 

The letter contained a comment on the price of cattle, pigs, milk and eggs. The weather of the previous summer and fall was described, in so far as it affected us, in saving the main crops of hay, turf and corn. Our stage in school was related and a comment on our diligence - or lack of diligence - with our lessons. We, as children, made suggestions and, as we got older and more mature, corrected my mother regarding commas and full stops. Mom had an idea that full stops were to be used sparingly and she would respond to our criticisms with "I have a full stop up there and that's enough".
This ritual was fun for us but possibly a chore for her, when added to her usual darning, sewing and knitting. She wrote to her sisters and nieces also, but we had no input into these letters. She had no difficulty relating to them in her own way, without any help. 

We began the plucking of turkeys and these were given to local relatives and to her two sisters in Cork, Auntie Hannah and Auntie Nell. They returned the compliment a hundred fold with the iced Christmas cake and a generous gift for all six of us in the household. We often got clothes and I particularly appreciated them, because, being the youngest, I received cast offs from my older sister Mary.

The house was an ordinary farmhouse, with two rooms downstairs and three bedrooms upstairs. The most important room was the kitchen, with an open fire in my younger days - later we "graduated" to a range. Everything happened in there: cooking, dining, and entertaining. During our waking hours, all of us lived in the kitchen; the parlour was used only rarely, at Christmas and any other special occasion. 

Nearer to the festive time, the cleaning and tidying was more urgently pursued. The table and chairs were scrubbed white with Vim. The concrete floor was washed and when the fireplace got a fresh whitewash, the house looked and felt spruced up, ready for Christmas night. The decorations of streamers across the rafters in the kitchen, with a colourful bell in the middle, set the atmosphere for this special feast. The front window had a two-pound red candle, standing in an old jam jar with animal feed within. The pot was encircled with brightly coloured crepe paper in red, blue, yellow or white. Small branches of holly were thrust into the soft meal. The ornamental candle was placed in the middle of the wide sill, surrounded with the few Christmas cards. Condensation was common and, after a day or two, the cards got damp and fell over. We would try to stand them up again, if there was a special occasion, during the holiday season. 

One of the highlights of the holiday was when the uncles and aunts visited, to play cards. There was no end to the extra cleaning, done in preparation for the appointed night. This ritual was held in such importance that we did not open our Christmas cake until that night. Later my sister Mary put paid to this nonsense and insisted that we, as a family, deserved to indulge on Christmas night. We were the only children there and, in the fifties, we were "seen, not heard", and certainly not included in the card playing. We were not unduly upset, as our expectations were realistic. The novelty of the visitors satisfied us. One cousin did not play cards but sat by the fire, smoking his pipe contentedly, while teasing us kindly. 

The game was "a hundred and ten" and one had to bet and win at least three tricks. Usually, the person who had a couple of good trumps received another five cards in the dummy. I remember once, an uncle named Paddy "calling", with little hope of achieving the minimal tricks. Being a rogue, he enjoyed the reaction around the table, as he lost trick after trick. Paddy added a bit of excitement to a game that had lacked some fun until then. The other players welcomed the sound of the singing kettle for tea time. 

Conversation was lively and any local news discussed. One year, the topic was about the local grocer, who began to send out bills monthly. All at the table were appalled at this innovation. It had not been done before, so it was unacceptable. The meal was simple, with a variety of homemade breads and, of course, the Christmas cake had pride of place, elevated in the middle of the table. This was one of the few times that the china was brought out and set on the white starched linen tablecloth. Unfortunately, this custom died the Christmas after one aunt died. Such a party was never repeated and the next generation did not come up with a similar custom. 

Looking back on that special night, it was a very worthwhile one, as it was once a year, when these people met for pure enjoyment. After more than fifty years, our generation has pleasant memories of this social gathering.