This week (December 27 edition) in 1919 ...
* The last Christmas of the First World War proved to be a white Christmas in Boston ... though the term was not used.
“Christmas morning was ideal,” wrote The Standard in its round-up of the festive season. “During the night Jack Frost had again asserted himself and hard roads, crisp air, and later brilliant sunshine were the order.
“In the afternoon there was a slight fall of snow – just enough to cover the ground and give it a seasonable aspect, but the downfall was heavier at night, and Wednesday (Boxing Day) was a very wintery Bank Holiday.”
The paper also painted an evocative picture of Christmas Eve.
“Market day falling on Monday gave Boston a busy Christmas Eve,” it said. “All day and especially in the afternoon, the streets were thronged with people, a conspicuous feature being the number of soldiers and sailors home on leave.
All day and especially in the afternoon, the streets were thronged with people, a conspicuous feature being the number of soldiers and sailors home on leave.
“On all hands business appeared to be brisk, both on the market and at the shops.
“The weather was fine and milder than for some days past, with bright sunshine in the afternoon, which was pleasant save underfoot, where the recent ice-bound ground was thawed into a damp and sloppy surface.”
This week in 1977
* Gale force winds which swept across the Boston area in the early hours of Christmas Eve blacked out thousands of homes and caused widespread damage to property.
Television aerials were broken, roof tiles lifted off, and fences uprooted in winds which gusted to near hurricane force.
Part of a stand at Boston United’s York Street ground was blown down, and a house in Oxford Street, Boston, was damaged when Anglian Water Authority equipment was hurled against the building.
A Gosberton couple blamed a ‘freak whirlwind’ for two unwanted Christmas gifts that arrived at their High Street home – a pogo stick embedded in an upstairs window and a shed roof, complete with massive wooden joists and corrugated metal sections, planted on the front lawn.
The shed roof, measuring about 20ft by 12ft, had travelled some 100ft in a diagonal route across the High Street. It arrived virtually in tact after knocking sideways a telegraph pole, but missing other poles, cables, trees, and a high hedge.
The pogo stick, which had been inside the shed, smashed through panes of glass, but embedded itself in the sill without breaking the inner layer of double glazing.