by John Jenkinson

I spent the first fifteen years of my life in a suburb of London, some seven or eight miles south east from the City as the crow flies. We lived in a road of terraced houses which were all alike. These days it would be called an estate, but I don’t think the word was invented then.

The only tradesman’s motor vehicle I remember in the ten years before the war was the baker’s. He had a box like structure in place of a sidecar on his motorcycle. If I was lucky I would meet him on my way home from school at lunchtime and I would get a ride on the pillion seat – a rare treat. The other baker delivering in the road had a two wheeled cart drawn by a horse.

The milkman was a very regular visitor. He called once about 6.30a.m., then at 11, then again in the afternoon. He had a hard job as he had to push a three wheeled cart with iron banded wheels up a considerable hill. We lived at the bottom. Our milk was delivered in bottles which had cardboard caps to them. This was better than the Co-op whose cart carried a large churn. The milkman ladled the milk from the churn into the customers’ cans. Later, possibly just before the war, our milk was delivered from a four wheeled cart with rubber tyres drawn by a horse.

Another horse-drawn vehicle was the dust cart. This was met, at regular times, by a motor lorry. The cart shafts, with the horse attached, were disconnected from a full cart which was then drawn up a ramp onto the lorry after another empty cart had been off loaded.

With all the horses about, manure was not in short supply. I had a box mounted on a plank with a wheel at each corner. The front wheels would steer. 1 It was fun to take this to the top of the hill and ride it to the bottom. It was also very useful for collecting the manure which I sold for ld a bucket. I don’t think my parents would have approved of this had they known!

An uncle, who was a butcher in East London, used to send us our week-end joint through the post every Friday so that it arrived on Saturday morning. This was so regular that I can remember the postman calling on one occasion to say the rush basket containing the meat had not arrived at the sorting office and they had made enquiries about it. This was the only time I can remember it not arriving.

A number of street vendors came round at various times. There was the muffin man who carried his wares on a large tray on his head. He balanced the tray with one hand while he rang his bell with the other. Then there was the man who came round on a Sunday. He sold winkles. Again he carried his wares on a tray on his head. At times the barrel- organ player would stop at the bottom of the road and play for a time. Then I remember there was sometimes a man playing a piano accordion and at times street singers would come round. Another irregular caller was the knife- grinder, with his grinding wheel mounted on a barrow. I have seen these barrows in a museum which makes me realise I am not as young as I was. The rag and bone man came round, sometimes calling out “Rag and bones, any old lumber!” Sometimes one would operate outside the school offering the children goldfish for old clothes. I think this was often stopped by the police for various reasons. Maybe he was taking advantage of the children and not giving them a fair deal.

Although we lived in a London suburb there was a farm about a quarter of a mile from our home. It was on the main road which led to the High Street. I can remember cows being there, but I do not remember there being any fields. Later the farm buildings were used as a depot for vegetables.

Opposite the farm was the blacksmith who spent most of his time shoeing the horses. What a wonderful smell there was, or so we used to think. The hot iron for the shoes gave off a smell when they were quenched in water, before being offered up to the horse’s hoof. As the shoes were still hot the hoof was singed which gave off clouds of smoke with a pungent smell.

Outside the blacksmith’s there was the cats-meat-man who sold cooked horse flesh in 1d packets. He also sold an ointment for chilblains.

Our street was lit by gas and, of course, the lamps had to be turned on and off. No automatic switches in those days. The first lamp lighter used a long pole with a hook at the top to turn the gas tap and with a shielded light to ignite the gas. The later gas lamps must have had a pilot light as the man only had to turn on the gas. He must have come round in the morning to turn the lights off again, but I do not remember this. Perhaps I was still in bed.

The road menders worked in a gang of at least five men. To break the road one of the gang held a spike with a long pole, while the other four hit it with sledge hammers. They got a very good rhythm going and I do not recall seeing them ever miss the spike. Later, spikes were attached to the back of a steam roller which dragged them on the road to break it up. For some reason most of the men working on the roads wore straps round their trousers just below their knees. They were still called navvies then, probably from the time they worked digging the canals.

As well as steam rollers, steam lorries were by no means a rare sight as they chugged along the road. Some steam vehicles were still used during the London blitz. I remember seeing the fairground steam tractors being used to pull down damaged buildings. I believe it was mostly the steam lorries that used chains to direct the power from the engine to the rear wheels, but it was not only the lorries that used such a system. The Brook Bond Tea Company used Trojan vans which used this system.

The first buses I remember in London were, like the trams, open topped. Attached to the back of each seat on the upper deck was a canvas sheet which could be hooked on to the seat behind in an attempt to keep it dry when it rained. The staircase to the upper deck was outside.

Some of the trams took their electricity from overhead wires, while others had an underground supply. Quite often the collecting pole for the overhead supply came off the wire so everything came to a stop while the conductor tried to relocate the pole. He did this with another long pole carried specifically for the purpose. The problem with the underground supply was that it made a slot in the roadway to catch the unwary cyclist. The tram tracks themselves were a hazard too. The driver of a small car, such as an Austin Seven, had to be very careful that his wheels did not catch in the track causing the car to go where the driver did not intend.

From school we went by tram to the local swimming baths. We enjoyed this ride, particularly as there was a pedal near the driver’s position that struck a bell. Of course everyone of us made sure he trod on the pedal as we came down the stairs. The conductors did not have much of a sense of humour after a whole class of us had found the pedal.

A rather unusual sight was to see an ox wagon, drawn by four of six oxen, being driven along the main roads. I believe it was to advertise Atora Suet, but I cannot be too sure now of the name of the product being advertised.

Sainsbury’s had a shop not far from where we lived. Like most of the grocers and butchers at that time the floor was covered with saw dust. The butter was kept on the counter in large blocks and the assistant would estimate the amount wanted, which he then cut off with a butter pat. After weighing the lump of butter it was shaped into an oblong with the pats and then wrapped in paper. Sugar was another commodity that was always sold loose, being weighed out into blue paper bags. Why always blue paper?

I wonder what the bakers do with their cakes that have not sold these days? A baker’s shop, run by a Miss Whorley near my home, would sell us boys a pennyworth of stale cakes. Monday was the best day to go and if we were lucky we would get a whole bag full for our penny.

A visit to the dentist’s surgery at Bliss Hill Open Air Museum, Ironbridge, brought back memories. This dentist used a drill that was operated by treadle power, somewhat like that used on sewing machines. A dentist I visited in London in the early days of the war used such an instrument of torture. An improvement was the drill that was turned by an endless belt driven by an electric motor. I should think the belt was made of string with the two ends knotted together and every time the knot passed the drill it made it jump. How lucky that such things are now relegated to history.

How things have changed! The baker no longer calls and the milk is only delivered once a day. Horses have disappeared from the streets, so manure is worth much more than one old penny a bucket. It would be a very foolish person who entrusted a parcel of perishables to the post hoping for a next day delivery. While most of the street vendors have gone we are now left with young men selling household lines from door to door who say they are out of work. The last time I passed the old forge the blacksmith and cats meat man had gone. The building was still there, but now it sold motor cars. The street buskers are still with us, though, so some things don’t change. 

Published in Mourholme Magazine Issue 28 1996