SCHOOL'S OUT FOR CHRISTMAS

It was the last day of school before Christmas, and lots of sounds could be heard, even a mouse trap...

Now and then, a special day came along that had me desperate to get to school -  sports day, the school play, and the really special one and even more so than summer - the last day before we broke up for Christmas. Every kid was just desperate for the next few days to fly by, but going into school on that day was a special one because this was when we could bring in their own toys and games. As I left my house in the chilly Dartmoor drizzle, I'd spot the other kids making their way through the estate.

"Alright, Scott, What did you bring?"
"I've got Ker Plunk and Domino Rally, how about you?"
"I've got Monopoly and Top Trumps."
"Skill!" Everything was skill back then.

The weather, in typical Dartmoor fashion, was often gloomy and wet, but that added to the atmosphere in many ways. The village Christmas lights were nothing more than a few colored lightbulbs on a line between the shops, but it still felt magical. There was a smell of coal fires in the air, and as we walked to school, we'd point out all the Christmas trees in the windows.

"Hello, Mr. Eddington, Merry Christmas!" as we walked into the classroom and gave him a card. Some kids had been there for ages and set up their various games, but a couple of the kids were always there early - too early - because they were turfed out and didn't have the best life at home. "Mr Edge" had put some carols on, and it wasn't long before the classroom was alive with the sound of rolling dice, Connect 4, laughter, and kids counting out loud. "1, 2, 3, 4.... I'll buy it!" and "Was it Professor Plum, in the kitchen, with the rope?" Some kids were playing with their Action Men or Sindy dolls, while others brought card games and made dens under the tables.

Everyone handed out Christmas cards, except for a couple of kids who always seemed to be on the periphery of everything—the same kids who were at school before the classroom door was even unlocked. These two had it really tough on so many levels, and there always seemed to be a sadness in their eyes.

We were a mixed bag of kids, but on the whole, we all got along quite well. You had the kids from the farms, those whose parents had a fair bit of cash, the estate crowd (of which I was one), the established local kids whose names went back generations in the village, and then sadly, the kids like Stephen and Donna who just seemed to be there, lurking in the background, never really joining in nor wanting to. They were in our class - but not really, if you know what I mean.

They didn't bring any games with them because they didn't have any, and they wore the same clothes every day, which was evident on more than one level, and some kids would let them know in a very direct way - it was very sad to witness. Stephen (as we later found out) was being knocked about and up to all sorts of unmentionable things. He ended up committing the most terrible crimes you can imagine, which resulted in a very lengthy prison sentence.

We all went from table to table play games, whether it was a long game of Cluedo or a bit of a laugh with Buckeroo. Then suddenly, one kid would rush back from the steamed-up windows. "He's coming! He's coming!"

We all darted to the window, knocking chairs flying and bits from board games. We all wiped the window to see, and there in a very hastily put together Father Christmas costume was our headmaster, carrying over his shoulder an old potato sack. With his cotton-wool beard just about clinging to his face with sticky tape, he proceeded to hand out presents. We knew what was coming, it was the same every year, but we still loved it. Satsumas and nuts, and we ate them with relish. I remember Stephen just wandering around the room, back and forth, like a bored zoo animal doing loops around its cage.

"Thank you, Father Christmas!", we all shouted, and off he went in the Devon drizzle, holding on to his beard with one hand, and into the next classroom. Mr Edge put on Merry Christmas Everyone by Shakin Stevens, and whenever I hear those opening few seconds, I'm back in the classroom with board games and the smell of satsumas. It only amounted to roughly four hours, but what four hours it was.

I was totally split between not wanting the day to end but also desperate to get home, and when we did finally leave, you could cut the excitement with a knife.

As I headed back to my house with my little stack of cards and Monopoly box in a Tesco carrier bag, I really was walking in the air.