James Peto

Come on, it’s 6 o’clock and time for bed my mother said, there is a lot still to do before Christmas Day. Now, hang up your stocking at the end of your bed, put out biscuits on the edge of the bath for the reindeer while I ask daddy to leave a glass of warming whisky for Santa Claus, don’t forget the letter that you have written to him too. So the trap was set and off to sleep I went dreaming of toy trains, Meccano and even a penknife The long run-up to Christmas always seemed to start at the end of October with the clocks going back an hour. The two remaining months before Christmas were an extremely busy time for a small boy; presents had to be made for one’s mother and father plus any relations coming to stay for the festive period, not forgetting decorations.

In the early 1950s, as a very small school boy, I would travel between Inverness and London by steam sleeper train. The adventure started with tea in the Inverness Station Hotel while awaiting the train south. My parents never worried about my safety – unlike today, when children must have constant supervision from only the most stringently vetted adults. When I arrived at the platform, I was met by the sleeper superintendent, a guard into whose charge I was given. He had a small cabin in the luggage van, which, depending upon the time of year, would be decked with strings of rabbits, salmon in plaited reed cases, grouse, pheasants and all manner of delicious wild things, destined for Smithfield Market. Often, there would be a dog or two in need of attention and water.