Like many aspects of life in the 1950s, Watford’s seasonal electric decorations that hung across the High Street were used time and time again. Just a few years after the war, thrift remained the order of the day and both public and personal spending had to be kept in check.
If it snowed, as I always hoped it would, the home-made wooden sledge was dragged to Attenboroughs fields or Oxhey Park. But care was needed in Oxhey Park to avoid ending up being catapulted into the river Colne. I recall that happened at least once.
In the early 1950s rationing was still in evidence and Christmas puddings, mince pies and the proverbial iced fruit cake were always home-made. Even as the decade progressed pockets remained tight and ready-made seasonal fare was still considered a luxury. Toy giving was restricted to Christmas and birthdays, as it was in my parents’ youth.
Christmas lists were triggered by displays of toys and games in Cawdells, Clements or Cramers. Cramer’s toy shop near Watford High Street Station was stacked with model kits, but what appealed to me were the lead (later plastic) farm animals. As pocket money allowed, I collected a number of creatures large and small, and a farmer, sheepdog and milkmaid to keep them in check. One Christmas, I was given a wooden base with a green painted ‘field’ and blue ‘pond’, wooden block ‘fences’ and an outbuilding to house my purchases. The farm kept me quiet for hours. Another Christmas, I received a stethoscope, science kit and roller skates. The latter brought the biggest smile!
The first time I saw ‘Scoop’ was at Holy Rood School on a day when we brought our favourite games into class. One of the boys showed the board game and it went straight onto my Christmas list. Players became national newspaper editors and rolled the dice to complete their front page by gathering the highest value stories and advertisements. I loved that game!
Woolworths store by the corner of King Street sold several 2/6d (13p) general knowledge quiz books at Christmastime, which I collected. For some odd reason, I enjoyed surprising grown-ups by proclaiming, amongst other isolated facts, that forget-me-nots were properly known as ‘myosotis’. Opposite Woolworths, on the Queens Road corner, was Boots, where Atria’s entrance is now. The building had an impressive dome and a steep escalator on the left side on which I enjoyed riding, although I only remember calendars and diaries on the first floor.
Walking up the High Street past 110, the Importers Retail Salerooms’ tea and coffee shop with a large coffee bean roasting machine in the window, at which point I held my nose, was Cawdell's nearly opposite Market Street. Built in the early 1930s on the site of the historic Essex Arms and Corn Exchange, the store was demolished around 40 years later when Charter Place was built. I was captivated by Cawdell’s vacuum system, by which sealed tubes bearing customers’ money or cheques (no credit cards then) were placed in pipes on the walls and magically speeded to a cash office. I can still hear the sound they made. Change and receipts were returned in the same manner. I recall a perfectly-coiffured and well-made-up older lady in the millinery department with a corsage pinned to her smart dress. On Saturdays, a tall, ex-military-looking manager in a morning suit stood on the left of Clements’ entrance with a carnation in his lapel à la Captain Peacock in ‘Are You Being Served?’. Although based on Clements, I later wondered whether director David Croft had the look of Cawdell's millinery lady in mind when he created Mrs Slocombe, or whether notable Watford sitcom writer and former Palace Theatre manager Jimmy Perry influenced him.
How I looked forward to New Year’s Eve. When older, I was allowed to stay up and watch the White Heather Club; a popular television programme from north of the border, with singer Andy Stewart and ladies in white dresses and tartan sashes dancing, seemingly on air, with their kilted partners. I was carried away watching the ceilidhs in full action, with the skirl of bagpipes and the swirl of tartan. The fact that programmes were in black-and-white made not an iota of difference. It was a brilliant way to welcome a New Year. But workers had to wend their weary way into the factory or office on January 1. In those days, New Year’s Day was not a bank holiday.
Time passes all too quickly and there’s no pause button. Nurture those happy memories. Wishing Watford Observer readers all the very best for 2023.
Lesley Dunlop is the daughter of the late Ted Parrish, a well-known local historian and documentary filmmaker. He wrote 96 nostalgic articles for the ‘Evening Post-Echo’ in 1982-83 which have since been published in ‘Echoes of Old Watford, Bushey & Oxhey’, available at www.pastdayspublishing.com and Bushey Museum. Lesley is currently working on ‘Two Lives, Two World Wars’, a companion volume that explores her father’s and grandfather’s lives and war experiences, in which Watford, Bushey and Oxhey’s history will take to the stage once again.
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