I’m really sad to read about the black guy having been killed.
That sounds a lot like the era I grew up in. 
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That reminds me of Mum telling me of an incident on a train during the war. I was staring fixedly, and also wide eyed, at a giant (well much bigger than me) black American soldier. I had obviously never seen anyone not white before and said in wonderment for everyone to hear ‘Mummy, even his hands are black’. He laughed out loud then smiled at Mum’s acute embarrassment as she stuttered her apologies. It was always retold in the spirit of admiration for his understanding and neither of us at the time could have realised that he was severely ostracised by his own countrymen of a lighter hue.
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Good grief… you’ve just had me bursting into song… Nellie the Elephant… yes, what happy memories…
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Happy to please. 
Mateus Rosé
Christmas in our house - Blue Nun, Drambuie and Warninks Advocaat.
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Last year’s partly finished bottle of sherry - as you’ll have gathered, my parents were not great drinkers. 
Nor were mine in reality although my father being ex-merchant navy could easily get through a bottle of scotch with our neighbour in an evening (also ex MN), the same neighbour gave me my first cigarette when I was 8.
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Players Navy Cut or Capstan Full Strength?
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Embassy I believe.
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I used to pinch a Players No6 from my mums bag.
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Ginger wine at Christmas… only the one bottle.
Maybe a tiny sip from Dad’s glass for those of us under 10… over 10 and you might (just might) have your own tiny liqueur glass with a splash of the nectar to sniff and savour. Of course, if several adults were visiting… all the kids had lemonade… which was a treat in itself.
We had the magic phrase FHB… “family hold back” … which would be muttered to us kids while the table was being laden with a deliciously tempting array of food.
Once guests had helped themselves (with us watching them like anxious hawks)… then, and only then… could we dive in and fill our plates. 
We used FHB too and still do! X
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FHB is known around here too.
Since we’re talking Christmas treats, a couple of years running we had a crate with small (330ml) bottles of dandelion and burdock, and my brother and I would have a bottle each for the evening until they ran out.
We always had a Christmas tree, which always had candles on it, and they would normally be lit at least once. We would also have an advent wreath starting 4 Sundays before Christmas, with one extra candle being lit each sunday building up to the big day.
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One of my dad’s old p o w mates was a director of Showerings , the makers of Babycham. Every Xmas he would send us a free crate of the 24 small bottles.
It was the nearest thing we ever got to real champers. In return dad would send them a box of Yarmouth kippers.
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Many wartime comrades kept in touch and/or supported one another in later years…
shortly before Dad died (in his 80’s)… I attended his annual Reunion where I could finally put faces to names I had only read on Christmas/birthday cards… it was a wonderful experience all round.
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Exactly and financially we had “nowt” . I used to mow lawns for a few coppers on the saturday, and I had a paper round on the Saturday evening earning me a staggering 2 and six a week. Be in the house when the street lamps went on and pick up a clout when you were late. Never hurt us one bit hurt my mother more for doing it. Black and white telly with the money box on the back. Yep times were different then.
I sang in the church choir. Saturday weddings, 2/6. And sometimes 2 and even three weddings on the same Saturday. Bliss!
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I don’t know why they (school) did that, we also had small milk bottles of unpasteurised milk, left outside in the sun and in summer tasted like sick! We would take as long as possible trying to drink it, in the hope to be the last and throw it away. Always some snitch waiting to tell on you!