A Hollytree Christmas

Coming from a small Liverpool/Welsh family that grew up in Wavertree, Mum was always close to her two older brothers and by the start of the 1950s none of the family had moved more than a few miles from their terraced home in Fallowfield Road. Each of the Davies siblings (Emlyn, Geoff and Joan) had married and had two offspring, which meant Ian and I saw quite a lot of our four cousins on Mum’s side of the family, particularly at Christmas and New Year.

My recollection is of three parties annually, throughout the early part of the decade, though it was probably nowhere near as many as that, certainly not by the time I had a new baby brother in 1954. I have no specific memories of any of them, they’re just an amalgam of warmth, light (inside, contrasting with the cold and dark outside), Christmas decorations, food, fun, laughter, games, and familiar faces.

Of the three venues, the one I have most recollection of is Uncle Geoff and Auntie Molly’s in Hollytree Road, Woolton. That would have been a long walk from ours, so we’d have got the 81 bus from the “top shops” at Taggart Avenue where like as not we’d have met Nana who lived nearby. We’d have got off the bus in Acrefield Road and walked the quarter mile or so down Hollytree to number 39 on the left hand side near the bottom of the road. It’s still very much as I remember it.

We’d often have been first to arrive, welcomed by Geoff and Molly who were always pleased to see us, and we’d go off to play games with our cousins – there were always new Christmas presents to see – leaving the adults to chat. We were all roughly the same age; Peter a year younger than me, Pam a year younger than Ian.

I think as a general rule Emlyn and Louise (Auntie Lulu) were always last to arrive, introducing Grahame into the mix  In age he was between me and Peter; I’ve wondered since if the three couples were engaged in some kind of race when the war ended; we were all classic baby boomers. Alan, seven years older, always seemed more like an adult and I think was treated so by the grown-ups in the family (though he was always able to make us younger ones laugh). Shortly after Coronation Day they had moved to West Kirby on the Wirral, so they always had much further to travel than we did; that may have explained their lateness.

I could be wrong, but I don’t think the custom of bringing food to family gatherings was prevalent back then. There was certainly no shortage of sandwiches, crisps, cakes, crackers, jelly, blancmange, trifle, Christmas cake (though I never liked it) and more besides, all laid on by Auntie Molly I’m sure. Molly was the perfect children’s party hostess; I never saw her without a big smile and she loved to laugh. And her laugh was legendary; it could fill a theatre, and I don’t mean from the stage. We were once at a panto at the Empire and knew immediately the comedy started that our cousins were there too.

Bill and Clara Masterton, Molly’s parents who also lived in Childwall, were always at the parties in Hollytree Road. Of course we didn’t know their Christian names so we couldn’t use them, not even prefixed by Uncle and Auntie: they were always “Mr and Mrs Masterton”. I realise now of course that Mum and Dad had only known them for a few years and they would never have addressed unrelated elders by their Christian names – it just wasn’t “done” at that time.* Peter and Pam called them Grampie and Nana – I eventually figured out how they could have two Nanas while we only had one.

Clara was a tiny little lady in contrast to Bill, who was a big, bald, larger-than-life cockney with a love of children, and not unlike Bud Flanagan in appearance. He’d been a chef who had left his native Hackney, pitched up in Liverpool before WWI and (like many before him) married a local girl. Before every party Bill must have gone to the bank and changed a pound note into eight half-crowns. After tea he’d spend his time jovially testing all of us children on our general knowledge. A coin was handed to the provider of every correct answer and Bill was so skilful that every cousin somehow received one, and no more (you can probably guess which little smartarse knew most of the answers.. but I was the oldest). Needless to say, we were always pleased to see them. 12½p may not seem much now, but in those pre-decimal days it was a fortune to a seven year old – and a pocketful was probably a sizeable chunk of the Mastertons’ weekly pension.

No memories remain of ever going home from Hollytree Road. Emlyn probably gave Nana a lift home, and maybe squeezed us into his Humber as well. Otherwise it must have been a tiring walk back up the hill to the bus stop, but we managed it and after a twenty minute walk the other end (downhill, at least) were certainly ready for bed!

*My uncle Howel Jones confirms this in his memoirs – in his case it was my grandparents he always addressed as Mr and Mrs, even after marrying into their family.