Whats on
Shopping in Lenham High Street 40 years ago
Looking at the shops in the square
and the High street now and being asked to describe what they were like forty
years ago it struck me the other day how a few have not changed at all, whilst
others have long since gone, reflecting, I suppose, our changing needs and shopping
habits.
So that you can imagine them for yourselves I'll walk you up the High Street starting in the square.
The Post Office was then run by the
long serving Esme Brown whose father had been postmaster before her. Lenham
born and bred, Esme was the fount of knowledge on village families and their
names and relationships to one another. Amy Myers and I found her invaluable
when we were collecting material for the village in pictures book that we wrote.
She cheerfully entered into the spirit of the project even accompanying us on
visits to some of the oldest residents, and taking on the role of interviewer
for us. The post office itself has not changed except for acquiring a more secure
door and moving the position of the counter after the ram raid a few years ago.
Next door was Mr Bradford the draper
who kept an Aladdin's cave of clothing; working men's shirts and corduroy trousers;
school uniforms for the children, 'pinnies' and dresses for ladies; working
boots and shoes; stout socks and stockings; pink directoire knickers for ladies
and long john underpants for men; striped flannelette pyjamas and nighties for
all ages (and sizes!). All kept neatly in labelled boxes on shelves that reached
to the ceiling. Mr B would put up his wooden ladder to reach them down. To meet
the corsetry needs of ladies of a certain build, a discreet lady representing
Spirella corsets was available for house calls.
Returning to the High Street Mr and Mrs Pilbeam ran the sweet shop. They were a quiet ancient couple of extreme courtesy. The door to their shop is not now used but is next to the one into the bookshop. Customers were announced by the tinkle of a brass bell on a spring that jerked as the door was opened. The shop was tiny and crammed with jars and boxes of sweets, cigarettes and tobacco. There was only a narrow space behind the counter and a door leading into the storeroom behind. Mr and Mrs Pilbeam were always in attendance together and would decorously manoeuvre round each other in this cramped space to reach jars of Sharps toffee made in Maidstone, boiled fruit drops and fishes, dolly mixtures, aniseed balls, pear drops, cinder toffee, humbugs, fruit jellies, sherbet lemons with a hard outside but when you bit through there was an explosion of fizzy sherbet in your mouth that made the eyes water.
There were jars of multi-coloured lemonade powder that Mrs P shovelled into flimsy cone-shaped paper bags. I think the powder was supposed to be mixed with water, but the traditional method was to lick a finger and dip it into the powder and suck it off. Of course this soon made the bag soggy, so you ended up licking that too before the whole lot collapsed. Another favourite was Everton toffee made in flat tin trays and needing a tiny hammer to smash it into mouth size pieces. Mr P would then slowly and carefully put it piece by piece into small paper bags rewarding his efforts by slipping a shard or two into his own mouth - with rather dirty fingernails it was noticed.
There were gobstoppers at two a penny
that changed colour as you ate them and therefore needed taking out and examining
every so often to see what colour you had arrived at, although your tongue showed
that, and yellow tubes of sherbet to be sucked through black 'straws' of liquorice
and if you were 'rich' small bars of Fry's chocolate cream. Right at the front
of the counter at child nose height was a tray of tiny packets of mints and
refreshers, and liquorice boot laces for a ha'penny. - or was it a penny? I
suspect little boys, and I daresay little girls too, would often work the old
trick on the dear old Pilbeams of asking for something off the top shelf behind
them, and when no one was looking, pinch a packet or two.
At number 5, now a private house, Stella ran the hairdressers. Always busy, it was welcoming and behind the steamed up windows and the buzz of a row of big hair dryers there was a cosy warmth in which to relax and exchange news - or gossip as some might call it. I suppose that, together with the post office and some of the other shops, it was the equivalent of today's text message or internet to keep abreast of the most important news - that of the village.
Around the corner from the post office in the square was Mr Manktelow's (where the bakers is now). He also was a draper and sold boots, shoes and men's suits as well as knitting wools and sewing things, buttons, cottons needles and so on.
Sometime in the late sixties some sharp-talking sales rep for 'cross your heart' bras must have persuaded him to display one in his shop window on a headless bust amongst his other much more modest wares. To our astonishment and entertainment it lit up at night and flashed invitingly, causing much delight and hilarity. I don't think it lasted very long. So between them every possible household and clothing need for the entire village could be met, for I have a feeling they also stocked tablecloths, towels and I dare say, mackintoshes and umbrellas.
What is now Goldsmiths art gallery was Mr Boorman's grocery shop. It had never been altered since the First World War, I imagine. On the left hand wall from floor to ceiling was a lovely polished wooden fitting with compartments and rows and rows of little drawers for spices and small packets of this and that. In front of the polished mahogany counter stood sacks of sugar and flour and a chair for ladies to sit on while waiting for their orders to be made up by Mr Boorman in a white pinafore. A marble slab held big cheeses and a mound of butter with a pair of wooden 'hands' beside to slap the butter into shape. There was also a bacon slicer, much like the one in Lurcocks only worked by a handle. I remember Mr and Mrs Boorman lived in the house next to the Working Men's club with the noisiest and most hysterical Scotch terrier ever. It would shriek itself into a frenzy at every passer by. I think it died of apoplexy, but was instantly replaced by another that rapidly acquired the same personality.
Then there was Tippens the newsagent selling what it always did. Now there's a business that has not changed at all except for owners.
The end cottage of that row was the home of Mr Sanger, the village 'snob'-shoe-mender to you. He had a limp and his little workshop round the side of the alley leading to Patchwork cottage is still there.
The 'Chopsticks and Bowl' was another grocers, the New Lenham Stores, owned by Headleys the Ashford Quaker family, and run by Mr and Mrs Ladhams. Given that Bill Lurcock ran Lurcocks, and the Spar shop by Mr and Mrs MacDonald this meant that 4 grocers could make a good living in the village with a population half its present size.
The last shop in the
High Street was built in the 1950s- and it shows. With its double front it had
a greengrocer on one side and a fishmonger on the other. The Fowards then bought
it. Mr Foward was an electrician who sold electrical goods and spares and his
wife sold china and household hardware.
Continued next month
From Lenham Focus for Lenham.net
why not look at www.friendsreunited.co.uk to look up old school friends.