2.3 Three Childhood Christmases
...Being a look at Christmas in the 1970s with a decidedly 1970s uncle.
When we look back on the 1970s from our vantage point of half a century later, it is often done through the medium of popular culture. We are encouraged to think of Abba singing Dancing Queen, of long haired men in flared trousers and platform shoes. We remember Ziggy Stardust, Space Hoppers, Saturday Night Fever, The Six Million Dollar Man and Columbo. It was a happy time of orange and brown wallpaper, Watney’s Red Barrel, Manchester United with George Best and Evil Kinevil doing motorcycle jumps over double decker buses.
But in the middle of all those things were people like my Grandma, who was born in the same year that Queen Victoria died, and my Dad’s brother, Uncle John, who was an archetypal 1970s man’s man whose interests centred around his car, drinking, and lusting after the sort of women my grandma called “Dolly Birds”.
They lived together in a strange symbiotic relationship. He clearly looked after her, but to some extent, she probably looked after him too. She certainly prevented him from taking up with any of the dolly birds he might have got involved with, probably because she didn’t want to be left without him should he get married and moved into a house of his own. She could snuff out any burgeoning relationship by making cutting comments to him either in front of or behind the back of any woman who got sufficiently involved in his life to meet her. She wanted him all to herself, and that is what she got.
But then perhaps Uncle John wasn’t cut out for long term relationships women anyway. Perhaps he enjoyed a drink a little too much, and had difficulty moderating his behaviour out of consideration for the feelings of others. Most of the time this wouldn’t have worried my Grandma, who was made of powerful stuff. She could tell a ribald joke with the best of them, only seeming to censor herself when she realised that me or my Sister were present. I can remember her referring to Alfred Hitchcock as “Old Itchy Cock”, and telling my mother about a man that she had met on the street who had told her that his dog “liked a stroke” adding “ I thought - aye and I bet you do as well, you dirty bugger”
As a Kid, I mostly saw Uncle John when he drove us to our seaside holidays at Scarborough and the like. He used to load all of our stuff into the boot of his Austin 1100, or later on his Morris Marina, and take us all out and drop us off in the caravan or holiday cottage we had rented. He liked to complain that my Dad, who didn’t drive, was taking advantage of his good nature, putting on a Dad like voice and saying “Ohh Our John will do it - Cart-Hoss1 our John is”. He also used to like to drive too fast and make sudden turns which put my Mam on edge for the whole journey.
My Mam didn’t get on particularly well with my Uncle John. She probably put up with him for the sake of my Dad. My Dad once said that the first time he took my Mam to the family home, Uncle John had “tried to get fresh with her” quickly adding “but that was just what he was like - he didn’t mean anything by it”
The tension between my Mam and Uncle John always came to a head at Christmas. when he and Grandma would come for dinner at our house. My poor Dad was stuck in the middle trying to mediate between the two, play down both his brother’s faults and his wife’s irritability with those faults. It was a colossal task. I particularly remember one time when John, (ever trying to portray himself as a cultured and intelligent man who kept up with science and natural history through programmes on the television) asked my Dad if he had seen a recent documentary about dolphins. Dad said that he had missed it as he was helping my Mam with the washing up at the time. Johns answer was a shocker
“You Stupid Cunt! - You’ll never learn anything about the world”
It was the first time that I had ever heard that word spoken by anyone apart from the tough lads at school, who preferred thumping kids like me around the ears rather than reading books. I felt sorry for my Dad, and would never have swapped his view of the world for Uncle John’s, but I was also sort of thrilled to have such a character in the family, as long as he was only an occasional visitor.
Everything that Uncle John does or says in the poem “Three Childhood Christmases” is based on things that he actually did or said on one Christmas Day or another.2
Three Childhood Christmases
Early December 1972 Grandma We're off to our Cyril's on Christmas Day So be respectful, John He's not like you, he's a family man So none of your carrying on He's got a lovely wife, June, and two little kids Mike's eleven and Susan's eight So you'd better watch your drinking Don't go getting into a state Just be nice and normal Be respectful and polite And we'll have a lovely Christmas time Everything will be alright. Christmas Day 1972 Uncle John What a lovely time we're having Cyril I'm sorry I spilled my stout All over your June's nice new white blouse But I'm sure it'll all rinse out And besides she looked quite fetching With wet all down her front Aww don't look at me with that face You miserable.... Come on, come on, it's Christmas! June, give us a Christmas kiss.. Oh, alright then, be like that I'm off out on the piss. Early December 1973 Grandma Don't get drunk this Christmas John And spoil it for us all We're off to Cyril and June's again Lay off the alcohol Don't spoil it for his kiddies Michael's twelve and Susan's nine Don't you go corrupting them Through drinking too much wine Don't get like you did last year Don't ruin it again Remember it's the season Of goodwill to all men Christmas Day 1973 Uncle John Your June looks lovely Cyril She’s a real bit of alright Reminds me of a woman Down the pub the other night Intelligent, refined Great conversationalist She was black, but you know I’m Not colour prejudiced Not when they’re built like her I’m not She had a smashing pair I couldn’t keep my eyes off them I know, its rude to stare I chanced my arm and copped a feel She didn’t take it well She smacked me in the mouth And then she played up ruddy hell What’s that? You agree with her Can’t believe I’m hearing this If you’re going to take that tone with me I’m off out on the piss Early December 1974 Grandma Behave yourself this Christmas John Please, promise me you'll try Cyril and June have invited us round I can't imagine why Don't corrupt their children Mike's thirteen and Susan's ten If you can't control yourself this year We'll not be asked again Lay off the drink and be polite Don't spoil yourself this year At Christmas time, all folk should be Hearty and of good cheer Christmas Day 1974 Uncle John Now then Michael thirteen eh? I know what that denotes When I was your age I was out Sowing my wild oats Have you started smoking yet? Have a puff on my cigar. Isn't your sister getting big Does she wear a bra? Oh Cyril, June, don't look like that I've said nothing amiss Only a joke. Ohh sod you then I'm off out on the piss.
Cart Horse.
Perhaps this poem and article portrays Uncle John too harshly. There were many good things about him. Obviously the fact that he looked after his mother for the greater part of is adult life shows something, and he was always ready treat me and my sister to ice cream or fizzy drinks on those trips out to the coast. I think that his Christmas presents always came in the form of cash, possibly a little too much - displaying an offhand generosity, along with a lack of forethought. There was something about the way that he got on with us as kids. I suppose that was like a big kid himself with cars and booze instead of toys and sweets.
Some time after Grandma died in the early 1980s, he did eventually get married. But then one day he took that Morris Marina out to a remote place by the banks of the river Humber and took his own life by running a hosepipe from the exhaust pipe through a side window. He would have been around sixty years old and had recently been made redundant from the metal refinery where he had worked since the 1950s.
Really enjoyed these.Thanks for sharing your Christmas experiences.
Hope you and your family have a lovely Christmas and look forward to reading more of your work next year
A gritty portrayal of family life. Mine weren't like that; indeed I had wished they'd spice it up a bit. But for never ending kindness - well, I was the tyrant. Not in the same way, but in the way youth thinks it's got the world sorted but is frustrated by cautious adults. Mercifully dad could drive, equally so, and I apologise to her, mum didn't.