Green curtains on Station Road

Many, many years ago a single aunty gave a Christmas party for her two little nieces; she lived in a bedsit, a single room in a large Victorian villa in Station Road, Cambridge, owned by a kindly old lady. In the bedsit there was enough furniture for one person, plus another chair should someone visit. The bathroom was on the landing and shared by the other tenants. There was a tiny gas ring to boil a kettle or heat some soup, cupboards for food and clothes, and a radio. The most memorable thing about the bedsit, to the little girls at least, was the pair of green curtains across the window, which made the room recognizable from the outside to the young cousins.

This first Christmas party, the first of many, many stretching across more than half a century, was a simple affair. The refreshments were glass of orange squash, bridge rolls, spread with butter and with slices of dried date, and maybe some chocolate covered marshmallows. The most exciting thing about this party was that Father Christmas arrived! With his sack! and there were presents! No-one can now remember what the little gifts were,maybe a colouring book, maybe some little card game, no-one now can recall.

The aunty moved to her own house, and the party moved with her, and by this time the two little girls were joined by a sister and two brothers, and now their parents came to, the aunty’s own sisters and their husbands, parents to the little cousins.

Years passed, and still the tradition continued; more children arrived, and they grew up, and they had children of their own, and still there was a party every year… and even when the aunty became to elderly and infirm, still the party continued and Father Christmas came every year, his sack growing heavier and heavier as there were more and more young people to receive his gifts. There were no more date rolls, but there were cold meats, and chillis, and casseroles and jacket potatoes and rice, salads and desserts…

Last weekend was the 59th party, and now some of the original nieces and nephews are grandparents and a third generation are excited and thrilled by the sound of the knock on the door and the ho-ho-ho! More little ones gaze out of the window after Santa has left, convinced they can see his sleigh flying into the sky and the little red light of Rudolph’s nose… next year will be the diamond anniversary of that first little tea party in the bedsit with the green curtains on Station Road.