We are still in the Season of Christmas, if not still the Feast, so it seems appropriate to publish Barbara Liddell's further reflections about Christmas on the Island -Editor)

Christmas at school was both exciting and disappointing. The exciting bits fortunately far outweighed the disappointment. So exciting bits first, learning carols like 'We Three Kings' and roaring out the O before 'star of wonder star of light' and making parodies of  'While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks' into washed their socks and again  'star of wonder star of light' turning into somebody caught their pants alight! That was great and everyone was very knowledgeable singing in ' We wish you a Merry Christmas' that it was KIN (Family) and not King. Our school, St. Luke's had such high standard of education, that when I went to Grammar school I didn't seem to be taught anything new until the third year. The other exciting thing in my eyes was colouring in the Nativity Story Frieze that, when completed, hung around the Hall, I loved art and tried to get one of the Magi to colour - they had crowns and turbans with jewels.

Then there was the disappointment , I wanted to be Mary in the Nativity Play, I was in the leavers' class for two years, so could have had two bites at the cherry; but sadly the casting of a tiny blonde haired girl with pig tails didn't really seem apt, and both years I had the demanding task of playing a 'Child'. Both times the part was given to dark haired tall girls, they didn't need to act really- more simper and look religious! Being a total know-all I had unconsciously learnt everyone's lines, so on the Big Night I was seen to to mouth everyone's parts on and off the stage. My father noticed this! The other ' Child' actress was my now sister- in -law of 54 years and she has starred in many AM DRAM   productions (good grounding ) and I have been on Stage with Sir Ian McKellen- but that's another story.

Our family home was an apartment or flat in a nineteen thirties block overlooking the Millwall Dock( where the Sailing Centre is now). My grandmother lived there all through WW2  and it is still standing now. At the end of the war my parents and sisters came to live there with her until she died in 1950 . Sadly I don't remember her as I was only 11 months old but through her I have my Island heritage. 

Those flats were very strictly run and there were lots of rules in place, housing was in such short supply that you could be evicted very easily for breaking them. So when my parents somehow adopted a cat they lived in fear of 'Moggie'  being discovered. We lived on the third floor ( no lift)  and so in the days before cat litter it was mostly my job to go down to the waste ground/debris  and collect earth(dirt) to place into a thin wooden tomato box for Moggie's Convenience.....a polite word for toilets when I was young. All went well for a few years, we had several Moggies. It was a few days before Christmas and we had put up the decorations, put the real little Christmas tree in its big pot and put on the glass baubles and tinsel. No plastic in those days. We had all gone to bed but were woken by an awfully loud crash. We all came bleary eyed into the lounge where we were horrified to see the tree tipped onto the floor surrounded by smashed baubles and broken ornaments. My father had secured the real tree in the pot with earth and Moggie had thought he had been given a sort of new ensuite and had availed himself of the facilities! Mum said she was tempted to see if you really could 'Swing a cat' in our small lounge.  The next day my father bought an artificial tree. He was really taken in by the salesman's patter. He said "look no needles to drop and stick in you feet, and it folds up for storage so we won't have to buy another tree ever". Please don't imagine it was in any way like the artificial trees you can buy today- this one was a prototype actually it was almost Picasso in it's design not really looking like a tree. It was like a  broom handle on a tripod with about twelve 'branches' that looked like loo cleaning brushes painted green. It was the ugliest monstrosity and I am being kind. We called the Harpic tree- Harpic being a toilet cleaner. We put up with it for a few years but covered it with so much tinsel and tons of baubles you could just about make out a tree shape under all the camouflage! Oddly it was left behind when my parents moved house.

I was inspired to write a poem about Moggie and so here it is:-

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through our flat a creature was stirring 'twas Moggie our cat. 

He'd gone into the lounge and what did he see a new Cat's Convenience ,our Real Christmas tree. 

We'd put it in soil hoping that it would grow, we shouldn't have done it but how did we know?

It wasn't the cat's fault 'cos all round the tree was the usual 'dirt' that he'd use for a pee. 

Cat Litter a concept not known in those days, our Moggie left calling cards multiple ways. 

In our third floor mansion no pets were allowed ,so we hid him away from the Madd(EN)ing' Crowd! 

Our clandestine Moggie from the school of hard knocks, did his business each day in some dirt in a box. 

Imagine his pleasure on finding the boon of his own inside toilet in our living room.

No dirt from the Debris was soiling his feet, but here in the warm a private en suite. 

The  crash was horrendous it rattled the door, imagine my mum when she looked at the floor. 

It was scattered with tinsel and balls smashed to pieces ,it looked like the cat had been chasing some meeces! 

Mum lost her temper and without taking a breath chased the cat round the room in a live Wall of Death. 

She tried to nab Moggie, to just prove like that, in our tiny front room you could still swing a cat! 

She wouldn't have hurt him she loved him so well she just cleaned up the mess and disguised the Wee smell.

Our dad learned his lesson and made it official, in future our Real Tree would be Artificial! 

Some of the words have been changed to protect the public!?

Next instalment…..New Year’s Eve on the Island.