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THE VILLAGE SHOP 

Our house was at the top of a hill, quite away from the shops, or so I thought when a child of nine or ten. Nevertheless, I used to love to 'run an errand', order book in hand, as our local grocer's shop had many hidden treats in store. 

It was a very old house, squashed between a clothier's at one side and another food shop on the other. On the left was a small green gate leading to the yard and kitchen door. When younger, I had been very much afraid of the huge Airedale terrier which used to sit upon the steps barking at the passers-by; but with age he mellowed quite a lot, and I grew to be quite fond of him. 

The shop itself was on the right-hand side of the house. There were two small shop-windows with the entrance in between. The door was painted green, and had a large black letter-box, and a worn latch made of brass. Upon opening, the door would give a sort of shudder, and set off a terrific jangling of the shop-bell. The floor was smooth, and made of stone slabs. The ceiling was quite low, and painted cream like the walls with old brown beams. The counter ran along the left-hand side and behind it were the steps and door into the kitchen. 

On the wall at the back were rows of tall sweet jars and boxes of chocolate bars. Even higher was another shelf for cigarettes, matches, and tobacco - some even for chewing. How on earth people could chew tobacco, I wondered! Then further along, more shelves, with tins of fruit and syrup and jams. I do remember how good the tins of pineapple conserve used to taste. I have not seen any for years. 

On the counter itself were two wooden trays of fresh cream cakes, covered with muslin to keep out the flies. How my eyes would 'pop' on Fridays when we had cakes for tea. "Half-a-dozen cakes please" I would say, hoping all the eclairs had not been sold. Then, a large pair of scales, and a wooden till, with a place for writing on the top, and a drawer at the front, which popped in and out to deliver and collect our money. 

Along the front of the counter itself was a low shelf, on which was a row of large biscuit tins. These were fitted with special glass lids and hinged in order to weigh out the biscuits into a paper bag. Even cream crackers were sold this way - none of your modern packets - cellophane wrapped and hygienically sealed. No-one worried about such things. What an experience, though, to select one's own pound or half-pound of mixed biscuits - whatever mixture you liked the most. 

Sugar was also weighed-out, scoop by scoop, into dark blue paper bags. I can see now the grocer's fingers dexterously making the first tight tuck downwards, then folding the other sides down to hold it firm. 

I must always ask for best butter, my mother used to tell me. This was cut fresh from a barrel, and wrapped in crackly greaseproof paper. The bacon slicer was a lethal-looking machine, carving its way through many sides of bacon; served with a fork, and weighed like ham and other cold meats. All these were stored in a very cold larder tucked away behind the winding flight of deep stone steps which led to the upper regions of the house. The shop-windows themselves contained no fantastic displays of "THIS WEEK'S SPECIAL OFFERS" of new improved this or that. Only ordinary cardboard packets of tea and gravy-powder and custard, and posters advertising school plays and village meetings. Sometimes seasonal displays as at Christmas-time with boxes of crackers, jars of mincemeat, Christmas puddings, boxes of chocolates, and small mandarin oranges. 

Most of all, I remember how exciting the shop used to smell. Meat and newly-baked bread, tobacco and soap powder and polish, even the smell of the washed floor - all mixed up together! 

Now the shop, alas, is no more. It was pulled down several years ago to make way for road widening and village redevelopment, but I shall always remember it. 

ANONYMOUS


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Copyright © 2001 Harby Limited, All rights reserved.
Revised: October 07, 2002 .