s so surprising Outlook Ju s t


WilliamAs a child I never saw Just William as a Lanca­ shire lad; When I


the daughter of the Rev. E.J.S. Lamburn, a master at Bury Grammar School from 1870 to 1915, and Wil­ liam ’s c h a r a c te r was inspired largely by her brother John. The family lived a little way south of the town centre on the Manchester Road.


Typical ‘Silent Night” , by artist Tom Dodson, forms the attractive cover to the book A w o r d , f o r


After leaving the warm sanctuary of Lewis’s wonderland, we had ju s t turned into Corporation Street on the way back to Victoria when Raymond decided he would like to see Father Christmas just once more before he went home. Faced with the alterna­ tives of a protracted tantrum on one hand or a a weary walk back up Mar­ ket Street on the other, Uncle pon­ dered at length before deciding to take the little lad into one of the stores at the top end of Deansgate, which was slightly nearer and not uphill. After all, he reasoned, Ray­ mond wouldn’t know the difference.


It didn’t take long to find a store


with a Father Christmas and Ray­ mond’s expression of delight when he saw the old gentleman’s bewhiskered smile through a chink in the grotto fabric made it all worth while. ‘Come up here, son,’ said Father Christmas, beckoning with one hand and patting his knee with the other. And then, giving the lad a hug, he asked: ‘And what would you like me to bring you for Christmas?’ Raymond regraded him sternly


until, in his best Rossendale accent, came the only possible response to such a query: ‘Tha’s bloody soon fer- geet, an’t ti? “When Santa Clans For­ got", Da oi<l Smith □


O n a R ib fo le V a l le y fa rm


The Christmas my father reared forty geese — more than ever before. On December 23rd he killed them all by sticking. We children — there were seven of us — held the birds whilst he did it so that they bled on to groats, a pint measure being given with each bird sold. The groats were considered a great delicacy: most people added the giblets and cooked them slowly by the lire.


above the barn, the plucking room. After their day’s work our friends and neighbours came walking or riding horseback through the crisp-cold night air to help prepare the birds for market. This was considered the men’s work. They clattered in their clogs up


The geese were then carried up to a room


were carried into the house and laid in the great cold stone poultry slab. 'Phis is where the ladies took over. They gathered up the feathers for cleaning and ultimate use in beds and cushions; then they fed their men­ folk with a huge hot-pot followed by other delicacies, well laced with my mother's home-made wines of many varieties. “The Geese Got Fat”, Sarah Fisher □


the stairs to the plucking room, seated themselves in a circle and began to pluck, the feathers being piled in the middle. You can imagine the joking, the exchange of news and the good fellowship; of this friendly little community. When the plucking was finished the birds


William awoke early on Christmas Day. He had hung up his stocking the night, b efo re a n d was pleased to see it fairly full. He took out the presents quickly but. not very opti­ mistically. He had been early disillusioned in the mater of grown-ups’ capac­ ity fo r choosing suitable prosenI,s. Memories o f prayer books and history books ami socks and hand­ kerchiefs floated before liis mental vision. . . Yes, as bad as ever! a case contain­ ing a pen and a pencil and ruler, a new brush and comb, a purse (empty) and a new tie. . . a penknife and a box of toffee w<cre the only redeeming features. On the chair by his bedside was a book of Church history from Aunt Emma and a box con­ taining a pair of compasses, a p ro tra cto r and a set s q a a r e f r o m U n c I e Frederick. □


grew older the first blow to my preconceptions about him was the realization that Richard Crompton was a woman; the second was the discovery that the boy upon whom he was modelled was brought up just a couple of miles from my childhood home. Richmal Crompton was


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Burnley made Parkinson’s Pills were a sure remedy for winter ailments


C h a p e l C h r is tm a s


The Chapel was alone among the Dissenters of the district in having a service on Christmas Day; now it is less uncommon but the preparations are perhaps differ­ ent. Christmas Eve at the parsonage meant for us children learning to make puff pastry and literally dozens of mince pies. We had only six oval patty pans — the correct shape, Mother maintained, since the pies represented the manger to which the spices and incense of the Nativity were brought; but trays of round ones had to be allowed, because the evening would be devoted to the Decorators’ Supper. This institution had grown up in the years before


carol party, setting off on their way along the crest of the hill while the rest helped to clear up. Towards mid­ night, as my parents rolled into bed, the garden gate would open softly and from the lawn below their window floated up the dear, familiar though possibly unpalatable injunction: ‘Christians, awake’. But then, it had been composed on our side of Manchester, so how could it have been otherwise? Or could it? Catharine T. Herford


CHILDREN’S WORLD M


IL OL SHP S ETBRLVC 385,9 E ■UnE ‘TL


1 was old enough to notice, and even so it remained to us parsonage children simply glorious ‘noises off. Decorating the chapel was done after work by invita­ tion; it included supper afterwards, and was strictly limited to ‘courting couples’. The lists were made out in the weeks before, and the conversation at meal times turned largely then on who were definite, and whether it would be impolite to include the so-and-soes, who had perhaps not really achieved more than casual ‘walking out’ status. For many, the Decorators’ Supper was a virtual putting up of The banns! The last of these festive occasions to be remembered in the old parsonage some­ how or other had 36 glad souls seated and being regaled. At 10 p.m. those who were singers formed up as a


Silver Cross • Bebecar, «


? Maclaren • Bebe Contort, Mama's and Papa's • Eichhorn • Merrybabe : Open:.Wed., Thurs., Fri.!,:10 a.m. - 3 p.m. Saturday 10 a.pi. - 4 p.m. .


' W* * V


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