大象传媒

SILENT RECEPTION FOR 1940

The entry of 1940 was cold, dark and comparatively silent. The black-out, the presence of Jack Frost in his most severe mood and wartime restrictions on noise, were effective deterrents to the usual outdoor revelry and what festivities there were took place behind shuttered windows.
No doubt in the Hartlepool鈥檚 the next morning there must have been many an aching head and parched tongue, but in comparison with previous New Year鈥檚 Eve celebrations the event was relatively subdued and restrained.
Because of the absence of hooters, buzzers and all the other instruments of signalling, for the arrival of midnight, many people either missed or mis-timed the entry of the New Year completely. There were many first-footers of course, but their task was merely to stand in the shivering cold and either gauge the arrival of New Year, or stealthily listen at a neighbours window for the sound of Big Ben coming over the radio.
Generally, people preferred to stay at home and welcome the New Year among their own little circle. There was no lack of fun in warmly lighted parlours, but in contrast to previous years no gleaming beams shown from windows and sounds of music and gay laughter gave the only indication that behind the blacked-out windows families were ushering in the New Year.
There were more groups of people in the streets after midnight, as groups of young and old wended there way from house to house to pay their traditional respects. How strange it was in the blackout to stumble through dark streets with dimmed torch, colliding with joking groups of young men and women in a similar plight. Many a slightly befogged individual must have startled families by his sudden arrival at the at the wrong house.
There were religious watch-night services in the two towns and many of them were fairly well attended. Many more people must have listened in to the broadcast church service on the radio. It was in the strange 鈥� one might almost describe it as devout 鈥� silence that 1940 made its entry. People clinked their glasses with thoughts left unspoken鈥�.What will 1940 bring.
The majority must have silently wished for a speedy ending to their own and the world鈥檚 troubles. And if there were reduced actives in the Hartlepool鈥檚 that night, there was still less the following morning. Except for postmen, newsboys, policemen and the like, the townspeople generally slept late.
鈥淭he morning after the night before鈥� was perhaps a part explanation, but the biting frost, which made its presence felt even in the warmest bedroom, was also a strong deterrent to early rising. Thus, until noon the streets were practically deserted and those who were abroad strode along briskly, bent on the difficult business of keeping warm.
There was an added bonus. A bountiful sea provided scores of needy Hartlepool people with a useful New Year鈥檚 gift in the shape of hundreds of tons of sea coal washed up on the foreshore off Marine Drive. At noon, a 鈥淣orthern Daily Mail鈥� reporter counted 88 people within a space of 100 yards scraping and scooping with shovels, rakes, etc. An old lady of 70 and her two grandchildren, the latter up to their knees in the water, were among the crowd. They had been there since 7 o鈥檆lock that morning.

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