The Best Christmas Ever – 1947

In 1946, a freezing Christmas found Geoff in Hartley Hospital, Laneshawbridge, recovering from a tonsillectomy. He was only three, and the experience left him gravely ill. “My face swelled up,” Geoff recalls. “My mum said I looked like the Man in the Moon!” Determined to visit him daily, his parents braved the heavy snow, but daily ice cream Geoff was given to soothe the swelling couldn’t replace the magic of Christmas at home with his family. So, his parents promised that 1947 would be the best Christmas ever.

And they kept that promise, starting with a Christmas card Geoff has cherished for over 77 years. Sent by his grandmother, the Walt Disney card featured Minnie Mouse, Donald Duck, and Pluto, with a charming pop-up inside. Geoff still marvels at how well it has held up, exclaiming, “That’s a survivor!”

Preparations for Christmas in 1947 were just as memorable. “We’ve had the same milkman since 1940!” Geoff says. “It’s the fourth generation who brings our milk now.” Back then, milkman John Waite also raised turkeys on his farm, and Geoff’s father bought one for Christmas dinner. Geoff vividly remembers the bird hanging in the pantry for a week. “I saw my mum plucking it, then she cut off the feet,” he says. Always a collector at heart, young Geoff decided the turkey claw would make a great bedside ornament. Sadly, his mother didn’t share his enthusiasm, and the claw didn’t last long.

On Christmas morning, Geoff woke up to find a stocking at the end of his bed. In those days, stockings were actually his mother’s nylons, as tights didn’t exist yet. The stocking was filled with small treasures, starting with a sixpence at the bottom, which could be used to buy sweets. Then came a little lead toy and, in a surprising twist for modern readers, a smoker’s outfit—made entirely of chocolate. “You’d get chocolate matches, pipes, loose tobacco, and cigarettes!” Geoff laughs at the memory.

There was always an orange, as well as a little model aeroplane made out of balsa wood.

Alongside the stocking, a pillowcase stuffed with larger presents awaited him. Inside were annuals, including Film Fun—a book featuring famous faces like Laurel and Hardy, Max Miller, and other stars of the time. Though annuals today tend to be short on words and full of pictures, these vintage editions were packed with stories and comic strips to keep a child entertained all year long. Geoff still has his Film Fun from 1947, though it’s dated 1948, as it was meant to be read throughout the following year.

Geoff also received the Magic Beano annual with its colourful cover and comic strips. “The comics taught you to read. I learned to read very early, probably around three. I even read newspapers for the comic strips,” Geoff explains. “That’s why your parents bought the books for Christmas. I must have read these annuals a hundred times.”

Another special gift that year was a homemade toy dog. His mother had lovingly crafted it from old carpet scraps, using buttons from his liberty bodice—a garment children and women wore to stay warm in those days.

“You couldn’t really get toys then,” Geoff explains, as post-war Britain was still focused on rationing food, not manufacturing toys.

Despite all the wonderful presents, there was one thing Geoff had hoped for above all: a pedal car. His friend Tony Irving, who came from a wealthier family, owned one, and the two would often play with it on the streets of Colne. Geoff longed for his own, but when he had finished opening his pillowcase of presents, there was no sign of it.

But his disappointment didn’t last long. Geoff’s father urged him to go outside, and there, next to the doorstep, was a blue metal pedal car. It was the best surprise he could have imagined. “It was the best Christmas ever!” Geoff beams.

“We used to take it to the top of the street and could just freewheel all the way down. We could get some speed up! I came out of it a few times and hit my head.”

“If you went down Exchange Street, a steep street in Colne, you could get about 30 miles an hour! The hardest part was stopping when you got to the bottom and not crashing into the railings.”

His father had brought the car all the way from Manchester, taking it home on the bus—a true labour of love.

“We were all spoiled after the world wars because all the parents had been through it.” Geoff still has his grandfather’s Christmas tin, sent to all soldiers in the First World War by Princess Mary, including the Christmas card from the Princess.

“This survived the Blitz when my mum and dad’s house was bombed and they lost nearly everything,” Geoff explains. The tin kept safe an important part of the Crambie Christmas—a little Santa ornament that sat on the Christmas cake each year.

For Geoff, Christmas back then was all about gathering around the coal fire, reading his annuals, and playing with his simple toys. “Some of my happiest times were Christmas,” he says. “Just sitting by the fire, playing with my toys for hours and reading.” But the Christmas of 1947 was different—just as his parents had promised, it truly was the best Christmas ever!

ColneLife Dec/Jan 24/25