The following article has kindly been shared with us by HR Higgins and is a nostalgic recounting by Tony Higgins of his experiences during the Christmas season of 1952 while working at his family’s business. 

A Higgins Christmas in 1952

Christmas is a special time for us at H R Higgins (Coffee-man) Ltd because you have told us Christmas wouldn’t be the same without our coffees and teas. There is the thrill of seeing your orders come in and the challenge of getting them to you on time. We have always worked to do our utmost to get even the last-minute orders to you in time for Christmas. December is so short, with only about two and a half weeks to complete the Christmas orders.

In December 1952, I was fifteen. It was the year before I joined the company full-time, but I had been working in the business for as long as I could remember. December 1952 was when we had the dense and choking fog that came to be known as The Smog. The extreme wintry weather in the weeks before December made people burn large quantities of coal. We were used to autumn and early winter fogs that could be quite intense and cause traffic disruption—“pea-soupers,” we called them.

But The Smog, which lasted from Friday, 5th December until Tuesday, 9th December, was different. It was much more intense, yellow in colour, left a metallic taste in the mouth, and could be fatal for people suffering from chest and heart complaints. Late afternoon and evening were the worst times, with the dense smog even creeping into houses through cracks in windows and doors.

In those days, we had to take our parcels to the Post Office each day, but on Saturdays, our local Post Office at the bottom of South Molton Street was shut. It was vital for us to keep up to date with despatch, so we had to take the parcels to the main sorting office on Wimpole Street, across Oxford Street from our shop. We would work until the last minute, making sure we didn’t miss the Post Office closing time.

Customers’ orders were put in empty 60 kg coffee sacks, some 20 to 30 parcels per sack, then loaded onto a trolley—possibly as many as seven or eight sacks, full to the brim, stacked across the trolley's base. A tall member of the team would push the trolley, able to look over the piled sacks, while the rest of the team carried more parcels. Usually, three or four of us would help by keeping the sacks steady as we made our way up South Molton Street, avoiding pedestrians, and negotiating our way across Oxford Street, bumping up and down the pavements and over the kerbs.

I remember the smog being so dense. One could easily become disorientated, well-known landmarks unrecognisable. Bus inspectors and policemen were doing their best to guide traffic, holding burning torches and walking in front of the crawling traffic, the flames trying to force the smog upwards. They appeared out of nowhere, and though the traffic moved at a walking pace along Oxford Street, we had to keep our wits about us and were cursed by more than one official as we navigated through the buses and cars. Taxis crawled along, drivers leaning out of their cabs. We saw more than one abandoned vehicle. The bus fleet came to a standstill that evening, and only the underground remained working.

We made our way across Oxford Street, up Marylebone Lane, then right towards the back of John Lewis, turning left into Wimpole Street. We arrived just before closing, surprising the Post Office staff who, I am sure, were thinking of going home. We tipped the parcels out of the sacks, covering the floor with our Higgins parcels, which were then passed over the counter to the surprised assistants who stamped them one by one—bang, bang, bang—until all were stamped and sent rattling down into the depths of the Post Office.

The Wimpole Street main office was connected to the Post Office underground railway, so the orders were well and truly on their way. We breathed a sigh of relief; we had made it. That day’s orders were on their way.

It only remained for the team to stay together and find our way back to 42 South Molton Street, where my father and sister were anxiously awaiting our safe return. I don’t remember any of us being outwardly scared. We joked with each other, though with our noses and mouths covered that wasn’t easy. I am sure we were all thankful when we saw the glowing sign of the His Master’s Voice shop on Oxford Street. We knew where we were, with South Molton Street just to the right. Later, with some difficulty, we all made it home. Of course, we had to begin again on Monday, but we were up to date with the orders.

Following the events of The Smog, the government took action, and eventually, the Clean Air Act came into being.

The Smog of 1952 is thankfully a memory in the past. Christmas 2024 can be memorable because coffee and tea make wonderful gifts. We have so many good things in our coffee and tea selections for Christmas and New Year, including chocolates from the Highland Chocolatier, gift vouchers, and gift boxes. There is so much in our Christmas shop to tempt you, with ideas for special gifts and suggestions for your own coffee and tea. Why not see in the New Year by trying a new variety?

With my thanks for all your orders and very best wishes for Christmas and 2025.

Tony Higgins

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