Valleys New Years Eve 1955.

We have good New Years Eve`s at our house

To ban the banshee of bad memories.

Friends and neighbours come,

We drink and eat and talk and laugh and sing

And no-one has ever left before three thirty.

This  year, Chris had such a good night that he walked home bare foot

But it`s only next door so it didn`t matter.

 

It`s important to have a happy  New Year to prevent starting out on a maudlin note.

The best  New Years of all that I remember though

Was when I was a little girl growing up in Wales.

All the family and Gomar, who was like  family, would go to my Nana`s.

We were a BIG family but Nana had a big heart

And all were invited.

 

So on New Years Eve we would all be there by seven o`clock.

Then the men, that`s daddy`s and grandads and uncles

Would put on their big coats and Dai caps or fedoras

And with white mufflers to warm their necks would go out to brave the snow and ice.

There was a pint or two in the offing so it was worth it.

The women, mams, nanas and aunties and the children, stayed at home.

 

Then the fun would start.

Bottles of homebrew, sherry and Advocaat would appear,

Sustenance while preparing the gargantuan mountain of food “for when the men come back”  You dribble at warm wafts of home baked bread being sliced

And cinnamon scented smoked ham carved in thick wedges.

Red cabbage and overflowing bowls of rosy tomatoes roll onto the snow white tablecloth

While picked onions, staring from their eye-balled jars since October are now removed to gaze blankly at the ceiling.

Supper was planned with military precision.

Trestle tables borrowed from the chapel stretch across the width of the house

Six tables placed to end at the fire side and make toast of whoever sat there!

 

And while the women worked and drank and talked and tipsily laughed

We children PLAYED!

There were six of us,

A mixture of brothers and sisters and cousins

And my Nana`s was a great place to play.

Hide`n Seek was favourite, taking it in turns to hide.

There were so many places to go.

Under the pantry stairs, sharing the space with bags of sugar and tins of tomatoes,

In the cupboards in the front parlour, dodging a spider or two,

Disappearing behind heavy velvet curtains hung to contain draughts and put to ghostly use by “moaning” and swaying before you were “found”.

Hiding in the bath adjacent to my Nana`s bedroom,

An old, scratched, enamel bath, freestanding and deep enough to hide in.

Spooky in that room though.  Real ghosts hovered so no-one “hid” for long.

Then there was Nana`s bedroom – under the bed,

Or Auntie Lyd`s  - in the wardrobe,

That night there would be no reprimands,

It was New Years Eve and all were merry – in more ways than one!

So childrens` antics that would have got a scolding,

Were ignored.

And we loved it.

 

Tick tock went the clock while sleepy children dozed on laps

And tables groaned beneath their weight of bread and cakes and meat and cheese.

Pickles and mustard, all homemade

with dishes piled with steaming potatoes to meet mens ale appetites,

And chocolate fingers and iced biscuits “for the children”.

All were to be catered for.

Eleven o`clock and the men returned.

Chairs, begged and borrowed seated all

With plenty of laps to cosset children.

The feast began and the room was filled with talking and chewing

and drinking and laughing,

With “pass the ham please” and “anyone want more?”

Tureens and plates being transported up and down the tables.

Such a feeling of good will and belonging.

Then the hour arrived.

Midnight.

And everyone would go outside.

We`d climb up the stone steps to my Nana`s garden

To stand in the frosty, starry, hushed night

And listen to the church bells of Saint Elfan

Peeling out their message of joy and love to the world across the snowy stillness.

A New Year.

A new start.

A new beginning.

Full of hope and promise.

 

Then all would go back inside to the toasty warmth of the house

For hugs and kisses and wishes of “Happy New Year”

And joining hands singing “Auld laing syne” .

Then Uncle Ken, being the darkest of eyes and hair, would be dismissed outside to knock on the front door and bear in a piece of coal for posterity.

Then the women, organised by years of experience, would make the rabble of used dishes disappear,

While the men, as men do, sat and drank and talked

And smoked tobacco in their pipes or lit cigars, “- just for New Year”,

And for a while there was a sleepy lull.

But the night was not over, for everyone had a “turn” to do.

Aunty Lovis and Aunty Lyd, dressed up to the nines in top hat and tails

Would dance and sing, “Burlington Bertie from Beau”.

Kicking up their legs and swirling their canes as they sang.

Uncle Charlie would sing “The Lord is my shepherd”,

His voice sweet and melodious making eyes misty with past memories.

Then my grandad would produce pennies from childrens’ ears

To make them disappear again up his sleeve.

The whole house echoing to the sound of love and laughter.

 

And then it was time for the children.

Some would recite poems, with nursery rhymes from the babies.

My cousin Derek, magician supreme, did tricks from his

“Young magician of the Year” conjuring set,

While grown-ups obliged with gasps of awe at his skills.

My brother would tell jokes and my sister would cry.

Under pressure to perform -- she usually did so this was expected,

And I - would sing!

“Off stage” hidden behind velvet door curtains

Waiting to be “announced” by an auntie.

Then the drama of the curtain being flung back by me

And I would perform to rapturous applause

“On the good ship Lollipop” or taking requests as demanded.

Such a little “show-off”.

I loved it !

Then all too soon it would be over

And wearily we would walk home to bed.

Heads still buzzing with the evening and all that it had brought

But so happy.

So content.

Such lovely memories to have and keep.

Such magnificent New Years Eves!

 

 

Jan Wharton