Home deliveries
Cherry Rogers remembers a time when deliveries to your door were common place. For our grandparents and parents, ordering your shopping and having it delivered was quite normal. The internet…
Dad with his first van[/caption]
My dad wasn’t much of shopper and he sent me and mum to get all his stuff - underwear, shirts, trousers; we had to get them and bring them back for approval. If asked what colour he wanted, he always said he thought black was a nice colour. He didn’t get it though, he got what we brought. When he wanted work boots or wellies, he took me down to Goodalls in the van. I went in and told them what he wanted and brought out the boots for him to try in the van,. I went in and out as many times as was needed for a good fit and then back with the money.
On a Saturday, in the Daily Mirror, there were pages of small advertisements for things - Doans Liver Pills, Elastic bandages, fence posts, sheds, tins of paint, ladies interlock knickers; you name it. My dad loved those pages and bought loads of stuff with varying degrees of success. He would scour the pages and say to me, “Look at this Flo’ee, that is good idea.” He got hair clippers because he thought mum could cut his hair and it would save him going down to Caban’s. She was a master with them. He always had circles the size of a shilling which were bald because she got the clippers caught up in his hair. He only had a bit round the edges anyway and when he hollered, she laughed and said, “Don’t make so much fuss Jack. You shout before you are hurt”.
Dad said to me one day, "Go down and get me a postal order. There is a good pair of gauntlets in the paper today. They are heated. Be lovely on the old motor bike." So I went and got the postal order and posted the letter. When the parcel arrived, we gathered round the table and dad undid the box, quite a big box. He opened the lid carefully and looked into the box and we all peered in, looking at each other too. He took one glove out and put it on his hand. The big cuff was leather, the hand and fingers were canvas, they all had bits of wire in them and stood up as if someone’s hand was already in them. Mum and I started to grin, then my dad looked at us and said very quietly, "CO' 'TER HULL", which translates to, "Go to hell". Mum and I laughed until we couldn’t stand. My Dad would have loved internet shopping.
PS - for anyone who isn't local "Go to hell" in this instance didn't mean mum and I should, it was a comment at the gloves which really meant, "Well I'll go to hell", and an expression of surprise or shock.
David Deacon,Joe Janacek,Roger Whilmot,myself, Helen,Stephan Krafakorbut,Richard Norton, David Philpott and Malcolm Smith.
Dorothy Hagarty, family and evacuees[/caption]
This is a photo taken at the back of my grandmother's home at 30 George Street in Brandon. I am the one back row right. Next to me is my 'aunt' Connie, who was my grandmother s evacuee, who along with her sister came from London to be safe from the bombing. Her three daughters are also in the photo. Left back row, my cousin Neville and his mother and father who also lived at 30 George Street.
My mother also had three girls from London and another from the North of England who lived nearby. I wasn't born until the war ended but all these children and their parents kept in touch with my family as they were very grateful to be taken in and loved by our family. We always saw them as family. I am so proud of my mum and my nan to give so much love to children in this way. That was not easy as there were many hardships - rationing etc. I know some evacuees had a harder struggle and were not given kindness. The girls my family took in never forgot and visited regularly. Sadly all but one passed away before my mum and the last one attended my mum's funeral 3 yrs ago. She said she counted herself so very lucky to have such a lovely aunt Beat (my mum).
Colin and Alan. They look the sort to tie a lady to a tree![/caption]
It got me thinking about my childhood and growing up. Playing down the 'Rec' and in the woods at the back of Greens, having dens among the logs. It wouldn’t be allowed now and if those logs had slipped, doesn’t even bear thinking about, but we all did it. Colin Rogers, now my husband, tied me to a tree and set fire to the grass round the bottom of it! I think I was a human sacrifice or it might have been Indians setting fire to white man. Nothing changes! I remember my friend, Joan Norton, hitting him with a pink handbag.
Everyone played out and lots of people went on to do a paper round for a bit of pocket money before they were old enough to start work. I didn’t do one as I wasn’t allowed to, but my husband Colin did one and so did his Brother Alan. Colin delivered for W.H Smith, of the Railway Station bookstall, delivering the Polish newspapers to the London Road camp. Lots of my friends delivered for Mrs. Green on the High Street.
These children chatting led my thoughts on, from paper rounds to starting work. I hadn’t been at work for much more than a week when I was sent over to the Pine Vista, which was out of bounds for me. Happy days, I got in there at last! I wonder what my Mum would have said if she knew that after a few months working, I started in July 1959, I was sent over to the Railway Station bookstall to order three copies of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. This was about 1960 I should think, when it could be published in the unexpurgated version. I as the office junior was sent to order the books. I thought as I was going I might as well have one as well and keep it in my desk drawer for lunchtime reading.
I dreaded going to order them because Bert Kidd knew my Mum and Aunty Crystal worked in the goods office at Thetford. So I sort of rehearsed what to say on the way over and hoped he wasn’t wearing his leather flying helmet because he was a bit deaf anyway. When I got to the counter he was doing his books, so I said, "I would like to order four copies of Lady Chatterley’s Lover please Mr. Kidd". He looked at me a bit astounded and said, "Pardon?" I had to holler it "FOUR COPIES OF LADY CHATTERLEY’S LOVER, PLEASE MR KIDD". He humphed a bit and wrote it in his order book. I scuttled off and thought now I have to go and flipping collect 'em. What a fuss the publication of that book caused. It was mild to what is heard and seen on TV these days and what is published. I used to have a fit of mild hysteria when Nana was really riled and said "Oh! Bum to it". I don’t know if it is a good or bad thing that the children know so much so early. I think they miss a lot in some respects but we were a bit naive. Just an observation.
Nana with some dry washing, she doesn't look very pleased. Background the land Newell's sawmill was on next door.[/caption]
Monday was washday. Tuesday ironing. Wednesday bedrooms. Thursday front room, which was only used at Christmas, so why it needed cleaning every week I don’t know - a quick dust and that would have been it, blinking freezing in there anyway! The only good thing was I could dust the piano and pretend to be Winnie Atwell, giving it a real good bash. Friday was living room - mats were taken outside to shake, hung up and had the living daylights bashed out of them. Lino round the sides of the mats was polished. The dusters were washed and knitwear and hand washing was done. Nothing was ever done on a Sunday as it was a day of rest - a walk round Tip and home via the Plough or down Fengate Drove and round Weeting in the afternoon. Chapel in the evening. Sunday tea, and if you were posh a tin of fruit with Nestle’s cream from a tin which you had to shake like the clappers to re-mix it and get it thick. My Dad always ate bread and butter with his and wanted me to, but no thank you.
Anyway, Monday was washday. We had a big scullery at Thetford Road with a 'Dutch oven' and a copper in it, but I don’t remember Mum using them. Dad kept tins of paint in the Dutch oven and Mum had a gas copper which you fitted on the side of the cooker. She didn’t use it much, just for the bath water because she went down to help Nana and they did the washing together. Nana lit the fire under the copper in the wash house and Mum brought her washing down from Thetford Road balanced on my bike in a wicker basket. She tried to ride with it a couple of times ... with disastrous consequences. They filled the copper with buckets of water and got it boiling. Two tin baths were filled with water for rinsing and a small bath with Recketts blue bag to make the washing whiter and another small one with starch. Washing was sorted into piles - anything with stains was scrubbed with a bar of soap on the washboard, sheets, pillowcases, tablecloths, tea towels and white terry towels all went in to boil. Sometimes towels were done separately, depending on the quantity of washing. They were poked and prodded with the copper stick - an old broom handle cut down a bit and boiled so much it was white at the end and frayed. When the whites came out the coloureds went in the hot water but were not boiled.
The mangle was wheeled forward, the wing nut tightened and linen was mangled. It was rinsed twice, put in blue bag and or starched, being mangled between each process. The last process was mangling two or three times tightening it up each time.
Washing was hung out, mangle rollers dried and loosened baths emptied. The water in the copper was used to scrub the wash house floor and the path between the wash house and the house. Then Mum wheeled her washing home to dry.
Below Nana with some dry washing, she doesn't look very pleased. Background the land Newell's sawmill was on next door.
Here is a photo of some long service awards at Calders.
Back row left to right - Jack Knight retired Manager, Jon Bullivant Head Office, Fred Crozier New Manager, Bernie Challiss Carpenter, Ted Beales Boilerman, Jack Adams Foreman.
Front row - Harold Lockwood Maintenance , Geoff Southgate Office Manager, Sam Ridgeon Sawyer, Tom Martin Crane Driver and Lennie Smith Storekeeper.