Memory Lane Post 4 - The Co-op

When I married, I automatically followed in my mother's footsteps by becoming a member of the Co-op and acquiring my own 'dividend' number.  Back in my childhood Mum used her 'divi' number when paying the milkman who left a daily supply of milk in all weathers.  I often fetched the milk in from the doorstep and placed the glass bottle in a cold bucket of water in the garage in summer, and on the cold stone pantry floor in winter (before we had a fridge!).  Sometimes, blue tits would have pecked at the silver foil tops making a hole and having had some of the cream off the top of the milk.

 

In winter the frozen milk would lift the foil lid and the thawed milk never tasted quite as good.  I just loved the cream from the top of the bottle and it was a treat to get this in a glass of milk for supper with two digestive, malted milk or rich tea biscuits.  My brother and I would save the washed foil bottle tops either to make 'flying saucers' with, that we would flick with our fingers and see how far they would fly down the hallway or in the garden, or we would collect them in a shoe box until we had enough to take to school to support 'Guide dogs for the blind' charity.  In his teens my brother had a milk round and had to get up early to go to the depot where he would join the fleet of milk floats going out on the streets.

 

Our local Co-op grocery store was a fair walk away but when we visited our Grandmother the Co-op shop was on the corner of her road.  Mum often told me that she and Dad had had their wedding reception in the Co-op rooms above the store that was near to Gran's house, and I imagined them dancing to the music of the day.

 

In Birmingham town centre the Co-operative Department store was very elegant and on occasion I would go there with the family.  It had lots of wooden and glass counters and there was a smell of bread coming from the Co-op bakery shop next door.  This store has long gone, a shopping mall has replaced it.

 

Tamworth Co-operative Department store is a dominant shop in my home town standing proud near to St Editha's church where the founder, Rev William MacGregor, was the incumbent.  He was previously a curate at St Chad's Church, Hopwas, on the outskirts of the town and where he is now at rest in the churchyard.  This store has managed to stay open through tough times and now offers shop floor space to other retailers too.

 

Over four decades my home has been furnished with all sorts of items and the 'divi' has been very useful over the years.  I have bought many a Christmas or birthday present and cards from this shop, booked holidays in the Co-op Travel Agents and had lunch or coffee with friends in the café on the top floor.  The 'divi' receipts have changed from little pink or yellow strips from the milkman in the 1960's to the ever popular plastic card of today.

 

What's your memories of the Co-op?  Do leave a message below.

Tamworth Literary Festival

 

 

How wonderful it was to have a Literary Festival in my home town.  It was a 'first' and greatly appreciated by all who attended, from near and far.  THANKS to Tina Williams and all the TamLitFest Committee for staging and manning this excellent event.  A series of workshops and talks were held in St George's Chapel, St Editha's Church, Tamworth, Staffordshire and stalls were available in Tamworth Library to meet authors and get signed copies of their books.

 



 

Helena Fairfax led 'How to Write a Great Romance' workshop

 

 

 Julia Ibbotson signing her books

 

 

Rosie Goodwin telling us about her journey to publication

 

 

J A Heron & S J Warner - two fun loving self-published authors

 

The workshops and talks provided inspiration, tips and how to write conflict in romantic story lines.  As lunch time was short I missed meeting Carol E Wyer, humour, romantic comedy writer; the Tamworth Writers Group members and many others.  Apologies for missing Gareth J Wood's workshop too.

 

I came away with handouts and new friends to add to other social media sites.  My notebook has pages of useful information and things to research.

 

Thank you once again TamLitFest - looking forward to future events.

Book Review - Martin Clunes - the biography

by Stafford Hildred and Tim Ewbank

Having read this book I feel like I know this man, having grown up with him in my life via the television.  He is my on-screen brother that I have never met. 

He was so funny in Men Behaving Badly which brought him to fame.  His behaviour, language and relationships, being out of step with my own experience, was at the same time somehow familiar.  In MBB he personified young, carefree, maleness.

Now we are both older I love his documentaries about Islands, Horses, Dogs etc.  His voice is dry and soothing.  Recently, whilst watching a programme about Ageing, I recognised his voice as the commentator.  It was as warm as the programme which gave a positive outlook, rather than the normal negative perspective of what old age might entail.  I like to think would know his voice anywhere.

My favourite character is Doc Martin - the quirky Cornish GP who has no people skills, no bedside manner and yet an excellent local GP.  He diagnoses illnesses accurately, sometimes without being asked to and saves children and adults alike from potentially fatal situations.  It is his relationship with Louisa that is of greatest interest to me.  He loves her but they misunderstand each other so much that living together, even for their baby's sake, takes a huge amount of effort and energy.

In one episode Asperger's Syndrome was hinted at but this has not been brought to the fore as a reason for his relationship difficulties and therefore the Doc is portrayed as 'odd', 'funny' and 'different' rather than there being a brain related reason.  Adult diagnosis of AS is not talked about in the media or in social circles, which is a pity as it needs to be more widely accepted.

I was unaware Martin Clunes is a real Doc Martin having been honoured with an honorary degree from Bournemouth University.  He was bestowed a Doctor of Arts for his work in acting.  The book mentions this near to the end, along with his love of VW camper vans - one in particular that he is doing up himself.

I was also unaware of the extensive charity work he does and of his lovely close knit family of three - himself, Phillipa his director wife, and Emily his daughter.  Many of the photographs the book includes show Martin smiling or laughing and the whole book left me with a sense of 'this is one happy chappy - grounded, loyal, caring and very talented'.  His commitment to charity work is admirable and the writers of this biography have done him proud.  A career listing at the end of the book shows how very flexible an actor Martin has been.  A 5-star read.

Memory Lane 3 - Hoola Hoops, Pogo Sticks and Go carts

 

I had a red hoola hoop.  An inexpensive circle of plastic that provided hours and years of fun.  Besides twirling it around my (then) nimble waist seeing how many rotations I could manage, it also transformed into a skipping implement too.  It was used at the school sports day too, laid out on the green grass with several others that we had to jump into, lift over our heads and run on to the next obstacle - a bean bag, egg and spoon or the dreaded sack race to the finishing line. 

 

I was quite envious of my friend having a pogo stick, and as I recall she had a pair of stilts too.  She was a good friend and let me use them too.  We would count our bounces or wooden stilted steps and laugh when we lost our balance and fell off, then start all over again. 

 

Living in a cul-de-sac we would 'play out' for hours during school holidays, after school before teatime (5pm) or before bedtime (7 or 8pm). 

The boys in our little avenue had home made go-carts that they would race along the road or around the pavements.  This one is quite superior to the one a neighbour made from scraps of wood, old pram wheels and his sister's old skipping rope to help 'steer' with or to pull it back to its starting point.  Us girls were 'pushers' but occasionally allowed a go in the steering seat.  The fun ended when one of the boys caught his hand in the spokes of the wheel and bled rather a lot, but I don't think he went to hospital.  Fortunately our play area was flat, I hate to think what might of happened if we took these contraptions to go down a hill. 

 

Memory Lane Post 2 - Corona Pop

When I was a child (half a century ago!) I lived in a house at the bottom of a cul-de-sac and a 'pop man' would park his vehicle outside our house and deliver, to the doorsteps, a weekly supply of fizzy drinks.  I think mother would pre-order three bottles a week and would rotate the flavours so that each week we had a different selection to choose from.  I quite remember the 'ooooh what have we got this time?' when fetching the bottles in off the front doorstep and placing them on the cool stone pantry floor.

I disliked orangeade as much as I disliked Lucozade, the latter purchased separately when one of us were poorly to boost our energy.  That glass bottle came in an orange coloured clear wrapping which I used to look through and see the world as orange coloured; or I would cut it up and stick it in patterns in my scrap book (the original 'cut and paste').  Being a terrible traveller I was often given a glass of Lucozade along with the words of wisdom about it being 'good for you'.  It didn't stop me being sick, in fact it probably prompted it more so.

I was fond of cherryade (red being my favourite colour to this day in many ways) and I was happy with lime or lemonade.  Dandelion and Burdock was another favourite although it did cause a lot of giggles when the 'burps' occurred afterwards.

There was one occasion where Corona pop stays in my mind.  It was at a neighbour's birthday party.  Andrew lived three doors away and his mum was a 'dinner lady' at school.  At his party she allowed us to 'mix our drinks' - a concept I have never thought of before.  So, into our party glasses went a bit of orangeade, cherryade, lemonade, limeade, cream soda and dandelion and burdock.  It made a fun fizzy party drink.  I think a few of the children were sick later that evening and it taught us the perils of mixing our drinks!

I recall that there was a repayment on the glass bottles returned to the pop man - perhaps three pence (thrupence) or six pence (a tanner).  I also remember when on holiday in Cornwall my brother would collect discarded smaller empty glass bottles of pop (no plastic ones then) and take them to a shop and be given a shilling (a bob) or two, which I thought was very grown up.  He was allowed to wander off down the beach for this activity whereas I was younger and had to be kept in sight.

At the end of the two week holiday my brother and I would buy our parents a 'thank you' present - a box of Cornish fudge for dad and a small bottle of Devon violets perfume or a lace hanky for mum.  Weren't we good kids!  Now I am a grumpy old woman I bemoan that there are no thank yous for Christmas or Birthday gifts or money any more.  No letters written nor even a text message.  How things have changed.

Memory Lane Post 1- I remember when...

 

When this picture appeared on Twitter it immediately evoked a memory and these thoughts followed:

I do remember doing this as a child.  I used an ordinary HB pencil, whatever coins were to hand and a piece of white paper or tracing paper.  It could be done with a wax crayon of any colour; a piece of charcoal or coloured chalk.  I'm not sure if I actually used the triangular wax crayon that I have a vague memory of, used perhaps at school on a trip to a church for brass rubbings.

It was a simple exercise, pointless maybe, but one that passed a bit of time in quiet pleasure, perhaps whilst mother was preparing tea or on a Sunday afternoon in my bedroom.  There were no other distractions or self-play computer games, the saying 'I'm bored' never uttered.  There was always something to do.

Pressing flowers or leaves
Skipping
French skipping
Marbles
Hopscotch
Cats Cradle
Roller skating
Throwing a ball up the wall - one potato, two potato, three potato, four etc.
Reading comics
Reading books
Colouring
Drawing
Painting
Making things
Collecting insects in a jar
Studying butterflies
Playing make-believe
Playing 'Please mister crocodile'
Playing Hide and Seek
Playing Tig - akky one, two, three.
Kite flying
Cricket/French Cricket
Rounders
Jackstones
Listening to the radio
Going to the library
Going Ice Skating
Going to the pictures

The list could continue and I am sure you could add to it in the comments below.  Perhaps if you have young children, grandchildren or young nieces, nephews, great-nieces/nephews you could make a point of showing them some of these activities in order for them not to be lost forever.  Happy Memory Making.