Saturdays were always the same when I was a child: I’d wake up at some ridiculous hour to watch kids TV, often before six, before it even started. I watched allsorts: Ulysses 31, The Shoe People, Mallett’s Mallet, Thundercats, Going Live!, Ramona, all kinds.
Then breakfast and the wait for the mid morning highlight.
We had a paper delivered each day and, before elevenses (or drink and biscuit as we always called it), my dad would walk down to the newsagents to pay for them. We would go with him, but not before we received our pocket money. About 20p a week, at first, all of which would be spent at the newsagents.
Out the front door we would start, down the path, turn left, left again, down the hill, past the postbox, over the road, along to the bollards, turn right, up through the estate to the shops at its centre.
In the newsagents, Dad would go up to the main counter, covered, as always, in the day’s news, and talk to the newsagent himself (who would, much later, get annoyed with me, but that’s a story for another day), while I would go to the back of the shop, to a separate counter-
The sweets counter.
Behind were shelves of jars full of sweets, sold by the quarter- in the future, when I got more pocket money, when I would walk to the newsagents on my own, these would be for me. During my first visits, though, I would concentrate on the boxes of sweets kept under a glass counter.
A young lady, though old to me, I guess, probably still at school, would serve me: she may have been my first crush, at about five, but it may have had more to do with the sweets, my mind’s a bit hazy over that bit. Anyway, I’d ask for a 20p mix-up and the choosing would begin.
I would mainly go for penny sweets: Black Jacks, Fruit Salads, Cola Bottles, the small ones mostly- maybe mix in a Foam Banana for a treat, all of which the sweet lady would pick and place into a paper bag, probably with her bare hands- the eighties cared less for hygiene- keeping count as we went. Oh, the decisions - how many penny sweets, two penny sweets to go for. And what ones, of course.
Once the mix was complete we would go home- sometimes via the baker’s for an extra treat to take home, the drink and biscuit becoming a drink and Doughnut or Chelsea Bun. But the main treat for the way home was the sweets, of course, a different order each week, perhaps, or always saving the best until last; again I am hazy, no doubt lost in a sugar cloud.
When home and finished, it would soon be lunch. On a Saturday it was always fishfingers and chips followed by semolina because Saturdays were always the same when I was a child. And they were wonderful indeed.
Then breakfast and the wait for the mid morning highlight.
We had a paper delivered each day and, before elevenses (or drink and biscuit as we always called it), my dad would walk down to the newsagents to pay for them. We would go with him, but not before we received our pocket money. About 20p a week, at first, all of which would be spent at the newsagents.
Out the front door we would start, down the path, turn left, left again, down the hill, past the postbox, over the road, along to the bollards, turn right, up through the estate to the shops at its centre.
In the newsagents, Dad would go up to the main counter, covered, as always, in the day’s news, and talk to the newsagent himself (who would, much later, get annoyed with me, but that’s a story for another day), while I would go to the back of the shop, to a separate counter-
The sweets counter.
Behind were shelves of jars full of sweets, sold by the quarter- in the future, when I got more pocket money, when I would walk to the newsagents on my own, these would be for me. During my first visits, though, I would concentrate on the boxes of sweets kept under a glass counter.
A young lady, though old to me, I guess, probably still at school, would serve me: she may have been my first crush, at about five, but it may have had more to do with the sweets, my mind’s a bit hazy over that bit. Anyway, I’d ask for a 20p mix-up and the choosing would begin.
I would mainly go for penny sweets: Black Jacks, Fruit Salads, Cola Bottles, the small ones mostly- maybe mix in a Foam Banana for a treat, all of which the sweet lady would pick and place into a paper bag, probably with her bare hands- the eighties cared less for hygiene- keeping count as we went. Oh, the decisions - how many penny sweets, two penny sweets to go for. And what ones, of course.
Once the mix was complete we would go home- sometimes via the baker’s for an extra treat to take home, the drink and biscuit becoming a drink and Doughnut or Chelsea Bun. But the main treat for the way home was the sweets, of course, a different order each week, perhaps, or always saving the best until last; again I am hazy, no doubt lost in a sugar cloud.
When home and finished, it would soon be lunch. On a Saturday it was always fishfingers and chips followed by semolina because Saturdays were always the same when I was a child. And they were wonderful indeed.
Written for the Light and Shade Challenge from the picture prompt:
Picture by ciscopa on rgbstock.com
What a brilliant trip into your memories. I remember those counters as well. The description was great at pulling you into the piece. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteGosh this stirred nostalgia and plenty of it. Very well done
ReplyDeleteSweet, sugary nostalgia. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteYour childhood sounds very idyllic, and as I read about it, I thought back to some of my memories of buying sweets as a child. Of course my memories took me back to the late 60's and early 70's. :) I enjoyed reading this trip down memory lane.
ReplyDeleteGod bless you,
Cheryl