Operator, please connect me to 1984! Remembering Christmas parties at Erlang House

Travel back to the late 1970s. You're leaving school and in the careers office up the Bricklayer's Arms, sitting patiently while the careers lady flicked through her cards. She's looking for a placement that would suit your qualifications. My careers officer got me a job in a publishers in Blackfriars Road for £28 a week. I lasted six weeks. It wasn't where I wanted to be, I wanted to work in Erlang House, the GPO place at the other end of the road!

Let me explain: when I was a schoolgirl I waited for my bus outside this towering office block - and every Christmas it came alive with the most huge Christmas tree. It stood there, glittering and spangled, covered in tinsel and lametta, baubles bright and shiny. Fairy lights all over it. It was stupendous!

That's where I wanted to work, forget qualifications and career hopes. I wanted to be where the tree was. I phoned them up, asked for a job, I got one. For £47 a week so I'd doubled my wages too. This was how easy it used to be to get a job back then!

Post Office Telecommunications was a sort of civil service kind of job. I was in the Hill House annex and it was massive. We had a sick bay, complete with bed and attendant nurse, and a canteen offering four choices of potato to accompany your main meal!

The telephone engineers were the brains of the outfit, with some of them going off to college. Our office was huge, like a football pitch, no partitions, just open and airy. You didn't have to book your desk back then.

I worked in the wages department, totting up the engineer's timesheets on an Olivetti adding machine. It was a great job but it really came alive at Christmas…

On 1 st December we began re-filling the drinks cabinet in the office. It was one of those dull metal jobs used for storing staplers and stuff but ours was full of Martini, wine, Malibu and Dubonnet. Any excuse for a celebration and we'd open it up. And there was this one small bottle of a liqueur that lurked there for years and nobody ever touched it until all the other bottles were dry.

We'd put up paper chains, concertina tissue paper lanterns from Woolworths, absolutely bundles of tinsel and we'd stick all our Christmas cards on the windows that looked out onto Blackfriars Road. It was a proper grotto by the time we'd finished. All the girls wore tinsel round their necks and tree baubles on their ears.

We used to have two hour lunches on a Friday and go over the Duke of Clarence at St George's Circus for drinks and chicken in a basket. We shared the pub with the postmen and the post boys - they were apprentices and brought round the internal post twice a day on a trolley.

Talking of trolleys we'd have a tea lady who came round at 11am and again at 3pm. We'd hear her arrive with her battle cry of 'Trolley!' and we'd scuttle off for freshly made crisp rolls filled with ham or cheese and thick butter. The tea was from an urn and strong.

The old stiff of a boss, Mr Brown (not his real name), would leave for home around midday on Christmas dinner day and once he'd cleared off we could really party.

Our planned Christmas dinner was always at the Pizzeria Castello up the Elephant & Castle. Long before we got to the door we could smell the garlic wafting through the street. There was always a warm welcome from the owner, Antonio, and we'd really stuff our faces with garlic bread, pizza and then a dreamy cheesecake, the like of which I've never tasted since.

We'd get there for 2pm and usually roll out around 7pm in a haze of garlic and Asti Spumante, the office favourite. The restaurant always gave us gifts of Panettone to take home with us.

Then there were the parties. Oh joy! We used to go round all the telephone exchanges in the area and dance the night away. There was another in Sales up in Erlang House, where previously a lady named Norma held dance classes for all the youngsters so they could meet each other in a safe environment.

Erlang's party was up the top of the building and you'd have to pass the enchanting Christmas tree by the black and white tiled staircase to get there. It was always a total riot and all ages joined in – standing round in a circle singing Agadoo and doing the motions to the Birdie Song! One year things got a bit mad and a telephone engineer threw the phones out of the window. But it was ok, he could fix it.

Erlang House copyright Debra Gosling

We even had a fancy dress party in the Wages office one year and we all made a proper effort with the costumes, it was a real New Romantic event. Steve Strange would have been proud of us (this was the 1980s, you had to be there...)

The biggest party was the one at the big exchange down the road. Again it was at the top of the building and the dance floor was huge. There was a proper DJ (a telephone engineer called Tony) and all the best dancers were out there all night long. Wham! of course featured heavily!

Then there was the rowing boat dance to Oops Upside Your Head when everyone would get down on the beer-sodden floor and 'dance' in a rowing boat motion. Kool and the Gang's Celebration was played until it had deep grooves in it! Then our near-retirement colleague Eileen would be in the centre of a circle dancing to Come On Eileen .

There were streamers; there was silly string that stained your hair and there were pots and pots of glitter. George Michael wore sparkly brooches and had highlights in his hair – and so did we! And it wasn't a party until at least five girls had slipped over in their heels on the beer and ruined their outfit.

Talking of which, we used to go off in our long lunch hour to Lower Marsh and get kitted out in all our party finery. White high heels and matching handbags of course. With a spray of Opium or Geminesse while all the boys wore white loafers and Kouros. Sadly both Erlang and Hill House are now demolished and all the grooving staff are gone. But oh, such happy days. Happy Christmas!