“It might look as if everything is going smoothly but actually there is a lot of frantic paddling happening just beneath the surface.” These were the words of Roger, the charming public face of Connect Bath, the body responsible for organising Bath’s community Christmas dinner. It’s a splendid affair to which anyone who might otherwise be alone on Christmas Day is invited.
There is nothing to pay and, in addition to being treated to a freshly cooked traditional or vegetarian Christmas dinner, guests are collected in the morning and, after afternoon entertainment including carol singing and a raffle, safely returned to their homes clutching a goody bag of Christmas gifts.
This is now such an established fixture on Bath’s calendar (as well as the mayor’s) that it’s hard to imagine Christmas in the city without it. But how did an event that takes a team of people all year to plan, a huge amount of goodwill and effort from local businesses, the loan of a professional kitchen and spacious dining hall, and the services of a professional chef, as well as an army of volunteers ever come into being?
An anarchist’s Christmas
Bath’s first free Christmas meal was in 1971, when counterculture was alive and well in the shape of the Bath Arts Workshop. A group of young people, idealistic, anarchic, and creative, came together in 1970 and set about organising festivals, street theatre, music, outings, and workshops, mostly free and some aimed specifically at disadvantaged children.
At the end of 1971, with the Workshop established in the old Organ Factory off Walcot Street, several participants, energised by the collective, decided to stay in Bath rather than go home to a family Christmas. Someone thought of providing a Christmas Day treat for people living alone or on the city streets, and with the blithe optimism of young people unable to imagine problems not yet encountered, and with little or no relevant experience, they reckoned they could cater for fifty. There would be a traditional Christmas dinner, and “with macrobiotic hippies in mind”, as the Bath Chronicle put it at the time, a vegetarian version.
Some of them spent a busy Christmas morning preparing food and setting tables with white tablecloths and sparkling glassware while others drove round the city in the Workshop van looking out for anyone seeming a bit lost, lonely, or clearly homeless and making them an offer they could hardly refuse. In the end, 70 rather bemused guests arrived at the Organ Factory. Somehow, the Arts Workshop made it work, providing good food, entertainment, and a convivial atmosphere. “I think I’ve gone to heaven,” one guest remarked.
Keeping the magic alive
The Workshop continued the tradition in the kitchens of Stothert and Pitt, one of Bath’s major employers at the time, and on at least one occasion in the community centre in the former St Mark’s church in Widcombe. Various fundraising ventures were dreamed up – among them selling hot chestnuts on the street from an old pram cleverly converted into a chestnut roaster. A huge vat of pudding ingredients was also taken to Kingsmead Square where passersby were invited to stir, make a wish, and guess the weight for a suitable donation.
Eventually, the Workshop came to an end, but Connect Bath continues the tradition today with a strong sense of community, a desire to combat loneliness, and an inclination for fun. A few weeks after Christmas, the committee begin planning for the next year, coordinating guests and volunteers, sourcing provisions, organising finance, providing entertainment, and liaising with the venue, Kingswood School.
One brilliant innovation is the Christmas card project, where local primary school children design cards on blanks provided by Connect Bath. The children write a personal message or joke inside the card along with their first name, age, and school. Volunteers then deliver these to individuals and people in hospital or care homes. The project encourages children to think of others in the run-up to Christmas, and the recipients express delight on opening a card with a personal message. Eight designs are chosen for use as e-cards to raise money for the following year.
It takes a village
For about 20 volunteers, preparations begin on 23 December when they gather to wrap gifts for each guest. The gifts are donated by individuals, local businesses and supermarkets, or are purchased by Connect Bath and given out on the big day by Father Christmas, who never fails to make an appearance and has time to chat.
From 24 December, Kingswood School becomes the centre of operations. The school makes its well-equipped kitchen and impressive dining hall available from Christmas Eve. Volunteers come to prepare the hall, volunteers’ room, signage and endless mountains of carrots, parsnips, sprouts, potatoes, stuffing balls, and pigs in blankets.
On the big day, volunteers cook, serve, drive, direct, greet, host, and clear up while Roger is kept busy finding instant answers to unexpected problems. Of course, there is also the main business of lots of jovial eating, nattering, and general merriment.
On 27 December, a team of volunteers ensures the Kingswood facilities are returned to as close to a pristine state as humanly possible.
In 2024, 135 guests enjoyed dinner in the dining hall, 100 volunteers ate their meal in the volunteers’ room, 57 dinners were sent to people who were housebound, unwell, or simply preferred to eat at home, and 60 dinners were sent to Bath’s hostel for the homeless Julian House. On the day, 10 turkeys, 40kg sprouts, 40kg carrots, 50kg parsnips, 15 large red cabbages, 15kg onions, 100kg potatoes, 400 chipolata sausages and 200 rashers of bacon were eaten. After the event, 50 bubble and squeak dinners were sent to Julian House.
A total of 212 volunteers were involved.
No one should feel lonely
Now that the Workshop van no longer goes prospecting for likely candidates, how are possible guests identified? Volunteers contact the previous year’s guests, while agencies and community members suggest potential new guests.
The Bath Chronicle sometimes publicizes the event in the autumn, and there might be a mention on local radio. The charity stall in the Christmas market and doctors’ surgeries advertise it, and word of mouth also plays a part.
Connect Bath’s motto is: “No one should feel lonely on Christmas Day”, so the qualification for an invitation is that you would otherwise be spending Christmas alone. Many guests are elderly, a few have mobility or educational difficulties or are otherwise marginalised. Single parents are welcomed, as are students far from home or newcomers to the city. It’s a surprising mix that somehow works beautifully, showcasing how connection with others is a very human need.
The idea of attending such a big event alone can be daunting. Connect Bath do everything possible to make it easy for the guests. The drivers who pick guests up will have already made contact, so they know who to expect. Volunteers wait in the car park to greet guests and escort them to their tables. At the table, they find the table host, whose job is to make sure everyone is included, and of course their fellow guests who have, by definition, also come on their own.
The tables soon gel, and by the time the food is served there is a real buzz. An elderly lady I once escorted to her table could barely contain her excitement as she looked round the hall to see if she could spot any of her friends from the previous year. She’d had such a brilliant time, she told me, that she’d been reluctant to go home and then could hardly wait for next Christmas.
The best Christmas
The volunteers are a mixed bunch. Preparing the hall on Christmas Eve, you might meet people of any age, though for kitchen work you need to be at least 16. Many come alone, some with a friend.
It is wonderful to see parents bringing their teenagers to spend the whole of their Christmas morning working hard to provide a memorable experience for their fellow citizens before going home to a family Christmas.
Connect Bath attempt to balance regular volunteers (about 40% each year) with newcomers. The rewards for volunteering greatly outweigh the few hours’ effort. You are part of a team effort giving your time to make Christmas special for others. You feel needed and appreciated – and the banter is first-class.
At the end of the morning shift two years ago, as I headed for the front door, I bumped into a teenager I’d seen at the next table who spent several hours of her Christmas Day working in the hot kitchen. She carried out whatever tasks were needed, including handling large containers, moving heavy trays of food, turning endless quantities of vegetables over, stirring gravy and constantly cleaning and tidying.
I asked her if it was her first time there and whether she had enjoyed it. With an enormous smile and eyes sparkling, she replied: “I’ve just had the best Christmas I’ve ever had!”
I knew exactly what she meant.
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