Corsham, long, long ago!

Spurred on by discovering that someone from Corsham --- the town where I was born --- actually read my Blog post yesterday and left a nice comment, I guess it just got the memory juices working a little harder this morning!

I was born in the Nursing Home --- now converted into apartments --- which was on the opposite side of the High Street, just a few yards down from The Wine Lodge, which was the family home. (Of course, from a different perspective you might say that it was a few yards up). That was almost 65 years ago, and the Corsham that existed in my childhood is vastly different from that of today. Gone are the familiar shops and the names that I knew as a boy, yet if I close my eyes for a moment I can still see them, still smell the wonderful scents that came from many of them. There was Watts' Sweet Shop at the Town Hall end of the High Street, and a paper shop next to that run by a family called Barber. A little way from that was Joe Damond's bakery where the smell of new-baked bread was as powerful as any perfumed invitation can be. I remember that you could by miniature Hovis loaves there, about 4" long. Joe was often mentioned in conversation at home because he had 'a reputation with the ladies', although I had no idea then what was meant by it!

The sweet-shop was my favourite of course, in common with most small boys. Watts also sold many of the small toys that helped you to be parted from your pocket-money, and often were the things that most annoyed your parents and were subsequently the subject of a disappearing act. I remember Mars Bars at 4d, Sherbert Dabs in a pale lemon tubed packet which had a tube of liquorice protruding from the top which you dipped into the powdery sherbert to suck off afterwards. Gobstoppers were there too, brightly coloured and available for just 1d, but my favourite was always Dolly Mixtures because you got lots of individual sweets for your money. Of course, not only did you need money, but it was necessary to have Sweet Coupons as well, for these were the days of rationing. One thing is certain, it never took me too long to be parted from my 6d each week!

I've mentioned previously about my early schooldays, spent at Miss Bailey's in the High Street, and remembered amongst the happiest moments of my early years. Looking out from one of the two classrooms you could see the Glove Factory workroom across the garden. I guess they must have rented the building from old Mr Bailey, Miss Bailey's father. He was a dapper little man with a waxed moustache that was yellowed from years of smoking a pipe, and as far as Miss Bailey was concerned he seemed to be somewhat of a tyrant. He resolutely refused to let her leave home, believing that her first duty was to care for him. As a result, although she was engaged to Ernest Hodson for decades it was not until after the death of her father that they were free to marry. I recall the school milk-breaks, when the little bottles of milk, (were they about a third of a pint?), were heated during the cold winter months in a large copper boiler in the kitchens. Every memory that I have of Miss Bailey's is a good one, and that statement speaks volumes about the care and love that she showed us all. Long after we had grown up and flown the nest she used to keep in touch with my parents to find out how we were doing. I'm one of seven children, and we all went to Miss Bailey for our early education. There was none better, yet in these days of ridiculous PC attitudes I expect that she would not have been allowed to run her little school, and that would have meant that the world --- certainly my world --- would have been a poorer place.

I remember The Beanstalk Coffee Bar opening in the town in the mid-1950's. Coffee Bars were springing up all over the country then, and were a part of the Rock 'n Roll era, and as such were instantly condemned by our parents and the town's 'elders'. Near to the Horse Fountain, it was along from the Town Hall, sandwiched between a shop where you could buy hardware and pet foods and George Cooper's Barber Shop. It was at the latter that small boys like myself were plonked on a piece of wood that fitted onto the Barber's chair in order to raise us to the right height for shearing. There was no choice of style, just the instruction from my mother that it should be 'a short back 'n sides, please George'. Clothing was purchased either at MacMillan's or at Smith's. I recall the pungent odour of Cigars at MacMillan's shop, and the hat boxes that were piled on the top of the cabinets, almost to the ceiling. Next to MacMillan's was the Hardware store run by Joe James, one of Corsham's elder statesmen. It was a magnificent emporium! You could wander the wooden-floored interior for ages, and you could purchase what you needed rather than what some far-distant accountant decreed was the quantity that you should by. Hence, if you wanted just two screws for a job or one 6" nail, then you could buy just that. The shop had its own interesting smells, a mixture of tallow, paraffin, metal and wood.

There were three main butchers in the town, Love's and, just a few doors up, Ives', and one on the other side of the road, run by Bill Beazant, which was our family's main supplier of meat. Shergolds ran the wet fish shop and Bollom's the Dry-Cleaners. Mr Thorn rented a shop from my father and ran the chemists. Of course there was no Precinct in those days, and you walked the length of the High Street and a little portion of Pickwick Road for your shopping. The first glimpse that I ever had of a TV set was in Bulson's window in Pickwick Road, outside which the school bus spewed us out onto the pavement at one stage of our development.

For leisure we would go to the Youth Centre, overseen by the indomitable Miss Reynolds, or when older, to the Community Centre where the Town Clerk, Bill Light, was in charge. There were Old Tyme Dances on a Friday evening, where young and old enjoyed waltzing round the floor, and later on in life there were Wednesday night Rock 'n Roll dances too. Apart from that we had church on a Sunday --- usually three times --- and a wealth of fields and woods to play our games in as we re-enacted wars and battles, played Cowboys and Indians, or pirates on the high seas. For the lucky few, and I was one of them, there were farmers who would allow small boys to go and help out, usually the payment being the occasional opportunity to drive the tractor across a field. I spent many happy days 'working' for Jack Vowles who rented Park Farm from the Methuen Estate. Sometimes, because we were friendly with the Methuens, we would take the punt out on the lake when were older, always with the warning to take great care because the weed in the lake would drag you under if you should fall in!

Well, dear reader, there's a lot more where that came from, but I guess that's enough of a trip down this section of Memory Lane for awhile, although you never know! I hope you enjoyed sharing the journey with me. I enjoyed your company.