School Christmas parties

Oh for the days of school Christmas parties.

So here we are. We're just a fortnight away from that big day. Yes folks its almost Christmas yet again. Just when you thought Christmas had been postponed, banned and abolished. You can't keep a good festival down. It's one of life's inevitabilities rather like that very warm and reassuring BBC Christmas tree. It's here again in your living room. Bigger, bolder and brighter than ever before. Hold on didn't we do the same thing last year and every year since the beginning of time or maybe it just seems that way?

Anyway the fact is that Christmas has turned up on our doorstep again. Personally I'm looking forward to Chanukah where everybody eats doughnuts. What a mouth watering prospect but even so Christmas is not so much as a way of life at this time of the year more a yearly occurrence that just seems to happen and there can be no escaping it. A vast multitude of presents have been bought, budgets have been broken and by the time you've done that final shop there's nothing in your purse. Where did all of that money go? Christmas is that huge nod to commercialism, capitalism gone crazy. How did we spend that money and is there any left in the bank? Let's check.

But I think it's time to go back to the old days. Ah yes that famous old chestnut. Those simple, straightforward days when the BBC summoned its finest platoon of celebrities to visit sick children in hospital. Then at roughly 2pm Top of the Pops would sail into our living rooms like a good old fashioned Christmas cracker and the BBC would indulge in a nostalgic look back at the year with Roy Wood's I wish It Could be Christmas every day, Slade's glorious So Here It Is Merry Christmas Everybody, the equally as brilliant Jonah Lewie Stop the Cavalry and the delightful Chris Rea standard Driving Home for Christmas. That recurring theme is just so soothingly familiar.  They're so heartwarming and uplifting and everybody feels so good about themselves. Which can be no bad thing at all.

Anyway back at our primary school most of us were getting ready for Christmas with a vengeance. In our class everything was chaos. There was a cheerful bedlam, a wild and frenzied surge of activity that in retrospect probably felt quite exciting at the time until we realised that it was just gentle, childish and inoffensive fun. And then we were all told to sit down, be quiet, remain silent and just listen to our teacher.

Then a booming voice would break the hushed silence. It was time children to stick things together and have a good old jolly time with paper. It was a golden moment that should have been recorded and savoured for ever more. A respectful silence temporarily reigned. Then madness took over and the whole classroom just exploded. Kids hollered at the top of their voices and order gave way to disorder.

In no time at all we were bombarded with scissors, a thousand pieces of crepe paper, glue and all of the paraphernalia. And then the teacher would stand at the front of the class as all of the kids were given very specific instructions. What we had to do was carefully cut out the multi coloured crepe paper into the shape of lanterns, stars and bell shaped decorations. It was a very precise military operation and if you got it wrong you were told quite firmly that it had to be done by the end of the morning. Even then children were set rigorous deadlines. Oh for the joys of the festive season.

Soon panicky pandemonium set in and there was a collective and sharp intake of breath. I can still see myself struggling desperately with crepe paper and glue and ending up in the most ridiculous tangle. And yet it all seemed so highly appropriate. We didn't question the status quo because they were a pop group anyway so who cared. We just got on with the job we were assigned to do and clocked off at the factory gates at 3.30 in the afternoon.

From what I can remember we were all blissfully satisfied with our endeavours. We hung our delicate lanterns across the classroom and they all seemed to fit like the proverbial jig saw puzzle. Remarkably my efforts were still clinging to the ceiling for our dear life and there was a warm glow of a job well done. Our teacher expressed their gratitude and then there was the end of term Christmas party, an extraordinary feat of organisation and painstaking planning.

Now the Christmas party was something else. It was normally held roughly a week before Christmas and normally had most of the kids in hysterics. Before the end of the day our teacher would tell us that we could bring in any toy or game of our choice and in those days all seemed to come in tattered boxes. Some of the kids felt this was open season. Shortly we had a whole variety of board games, plastic objects that took ages to assemble and in some cases music and vinyl LPs that crackled and jumped on the turntable.

The food of course was delicious, a confection of small cakes, biscuits and sweets neatly arranged on appetising cardboard plates. In no time the kids were confronted by  masses of grub. Then there were the beautifully cut sandwiches with their traditional combination of cheese, egg mayonnaise and anything else that took our fancy. Then there were the mountain of crisps and savoury bits and pieces that were almost too good to be true.

And then at the end of the day when all of the kids were now pleading for the party to stop, there was a noticeable gear change, a gradual winding down and then utter exhaustion. Don't forget we were only about seven or eight at the time and our dwindling reserves of energy had begun to take their toll. Soon the day drew to a close and the kids slumped and slouched, paper lanterns drooping rather sadly from the ceiling and the day had run its natural course.

It all now seems a distant childhood memory. I can still see our school assembly hall with its nicely varnished floor, the yellowing hymn sheet almost crying out for salvation, the wooden frames for Physical Exercise, the mats for dong somersaults, the pommel horse, jumping over that pommel horse athletically and the record player that sounded as if it had last been used in 1932.

I can still remember one particularly hilarious Christmas at our primary school. The school held its yearly Christmas play and concert in the hall. For weeks, months, seemingly decades, the kids in the classes exercised fully their musical and creative juices with a wonderful collection of musical instruments. There were the tantalising triangles just waiting for their turn, champing at the bit and then the reedy recorders that were almost essential listening at any school concert. Oh and then there were the vibrant violins, weeping at times but then very soulful and purposeful. It was a day our primary school will never ever forget.

Yours truly was assigned with a cymbal attached to a very threadbare piece of string. At the appointed moment I had to bash this cymbal with every sinew and muscle I had. It was quite the most vigorous thing I'd done at school since gluing the lanterns together. After moderately successful rehearsals, the violinists and recorders were now tuned to perfection and it was my responsibility to get it right on the cymbal. Needless to say it all went terribly wrong for me on the day and my horrendous clash of the cymbal sent it flying off into Outer Space never to be seen again. Oh what festive frivolity we had.