TONIGHT, revellers will pack the pubs and bars. As the countdown draws closer, many will gather outside York Minster to hear the bells ring out the old and ring in the new. Arms will be linked, kisses exchanged and a chorus of Auld Lang Syne belted out.

This is as it has always been on New Year's Eve. Or has it? A look through the Evening Press archives shows some deviations from the traditional.

Sixty years ago, Britain was more than ready to say goodbye to 1941 and look forward to a new start. It had been a black year. German bombers had wrought death and destruction on British cities. Thousands died in London alone during the Blitz, Buckingham Palace was hit as was the House of Commons.

British troops were forced to evacuate Greece and the Ark Royal was sunk by a German U-boat.

After more than two years of fighting, the war seemed no closer to an end. Little wonder there was no mood for celebrating.

Minds were concentrating on survival. In the Evening Press, Mr Nobody's Diary on December 30, 1941, noted that the "appeal to 'Dig For Victory' is more imperative than at any previous stage of the war". So should residents turn their lawns into a vegetable patch?

"If the kitchen garden is not sufficient and no allotment is obtainable, the answer is, 'the lawn must be put under the spade'," was Mr Nobody's conclusion.

A massive salvage effort was well under way. Housewives were exhorted to donate scraps to feed pig herds, and an advert on the front of the Press announced: "Great waste paper competition. Help York to win first prize for Yorkshire. Give the salvage collectors every book and scrap of paper you can find."

To cheer themselves up, residents could take themselves to the Odeon to see Bob Hope and Paulette Goddard in the film comedy Nothing But The Truth. Or watch More 1066 And All That, "a full ballet in 23 gay scenes" at the Theatre Royal.

But New Year's Eve was to be a subdued affair, as a report in the Press from December 31 made clear.

"Unless the Luftwaffe decide otherwise, York will greet the New Year very quietly. There will be no Minster bells to ring out their welcome to 1942; no happy throng in the precincts of the Minster.

"Instead of the pre-war celebrations, most people will be soberly carrying out their duties in ARP and Civil Defence. 'First footing' will go on as usual.

"I am certain one of York citizens' New Year resolutions - one which will be kept - will be a renewal of their determination to do their utmost for the war effort."

The report ended poignantly: "Who knows, perhaps 1943 will enable the joy bells to ring out again."

In their New Year's messages, York's leaders urged residents to continue to show fortitude in '42.

"This war has scattered families, given to most of us some distasteful jobs but at least it has quickened sympathy, brought us all together. May this unity of feeling deepen and widen throughout 1942," said the Lord Mayor, Mrs Edna Crichton.

Charles Oliver, the Sheriff of York, added: "There is no time for complacency or ease. Each of us must be imbued with the old spirit - A Will To Win."

In its New Year leader, the Evening Press was realistic. "Whether or not this year will see the war's end, it will bring hardship, toil, anxiety and sorrow. That is a prophecy that can be made only too assuredly...

"We must make up our minds now that, until a date unknown, we have to live in a war atmosphere, restrained by the necessities of war, and as cogs in a war machine; and in these conditions find our happiness."

Ten years later, the war was long over. But austerity remained. "The cynic among us sees no reason for 'celebrating' this New Year's Eve," began the Evening Press leader on December 31, 1951.

"On a superficial reckoning he may be thought to be correct. The cost of living weighs still more heavily. The expected 'peace by Christmas' in Korea has not even yet materialised. Malaya is 'grim'. The Middle East unsettled. The United Nations still divided on disarmament."

Phew! Quite a depressing list. But the Press finished in upbeat mood. "Certainly we have much for which we should be thankful as we stand on the threshold of 1952. Not the least is that the opportunity to make good our recovery and our survival as a nation is still with us. That we can celebrate."

Mr Nobody, meanwhile, was musing on the highlight of the year: the York Festival, part of the Festival of Britain celebrations.

"First in 1951's scrapbook are the gilt-edged pages devoted to two sunny weeks in June. Remember that fortnight? It was then that York played host to the world.

"It will be a long time before we forget our festival. The smell of fresh paint and beautiful flowers delighted us all and our visitors from overseas. York went gay, and it was a gaiety in which everyone could share!"

Retailers were asked for their predictions for 1952. Despite rising prices and the scarcity of some goods, they were determinedly optimistic.

The year would bring "better and more varied clothes for women, striking new wallpaper designs, no shortage of leather goods, a chance that jewellery prices may drop a little, shoes of pre-war quality, plenty of carpet squares and rugs and furniture with 'clean' lines".

Life was better in 1961, with no shortage of consumer goods in the sales. This time, it was the weather that diverted people's minds from New Year revelry.

By December 29, plummeting temperatures had frozen the River Ouse from bank to bank, although it was far from safe for skating. Twelve degrees of frost had been recorded the previous night.

The fire brigade was kept busy pumping out houses flooded by pipe bursts, and about 300 phones were put out of order.

A brief rise in temperatures melted the Rowntree Park lake, causing the postponement of the York Municipal skating competition. But on New Year's Eve itself, temperatures dropped like a stone, leaving a snow and ice blanket across North Yorkshire. Drifts of six feet were reported near Helmsley and Pickering.

"This is one of the most disastrous motoring starts to a New Year that we can ever remember," an AA spokesman told the Evening Press.

Up and down the country, the bad weather made it one of the quietest New Year's Eves for years. But some party goers refused to be put off, according to the Evening Press on January 1, 1962, 40 years ago.

"Revellers returning from New Year parties trudged through the heaviest snowstorm of the winter so far in Pocklington," the paper reported.