Ron Mayne: Earning Pocket Money in the 1930sMy Dad worked for H. J. Matthews, builders, in Berkhamsted. I remember his bike, which had a wicker workman's basket on the back, and was a source of pocket money for me. I was given ½d for pushing his bike halfway up Nashleigh Hill, 1d to the top [12d=5p]. Some time later I had another income from Nashleigh Hill, assisting the Walls Ice Cream man to push his tricycle up the hill - a hard proposition. The reward was a 1d fruit ice cone. Our next door neighbour gave me 2d to get her shopping. I used to go to the Co-Op butcher's for her. On my birthday she would give me a shilling. I also had to get disinfectant which was supplied by the Chesham Urban District Council (opposite where Newtown School is now situated). This would be about 1931. The council man sat in front of a wooden box and children formed a long queue. A deposit of 2d was paid for the permanent loan of a poison bottle. The 'dissy' was free, so pocket money was earned for fetching. I was quick to realise this and knocked on neighbours' doors to canvas for disinfectant fetching. Dad made us a truck, which became our pride and joy. I wrote 'Mayne Bros.' on the side of it and shared it with my brother Ray. Now I could go wooding and dunging - what profits could be made now! It gave me great satisfaction to spend on my Mum. She had long hair, so with a 1d I used to buy her hair pins from Grampy Hobbs shop, which was situated in Berkhamstead Road, at the bottom of George Street. The same 1d would have made Grampy Hobbs get out his tin of Palm Slab Toffee, place one slab in his big hand and with jet-black fingernails, produce a toffee hammer and break one up, usually eight pieces for my 1d - 4d for a whole slab. But it was my pride to get hair pins. Some Saturdays I visited my Granny Mayne in Hivings Hill and walked to the garage with Uncle Tom to get a can of petrol for his Renault car. This was one of the few cars in Chesham at this time. This errand produced 2d worth of toffee from Ashtons shop in Sunnyside Road, a wooden structure. I did errands for Miss Jepson, who lived at the corner of Severalls Avenue and Nashleigh Hill. I fetched wood for her in my truck, went to Wrights in Germain Street for cat food, Darvells Bakers (five scotch pancakes for 3d). Miss Jepson worked in the office of Butler's Shoe Factory in Severalls Avenue. She would give me a shopping list. At Christmas she would give us all a present. I used to come out from White Hill School and rush to Thomas Wright's wood yard (opposite the bottom of George Street) to fill up with wood before 5.30pm. The shrill hooter went off on time, also Saturday at 12.30 and 7.30am each morning. The other factory for wood was Webbs in Cameron Road. Bunkers at Hivings Hill were not as popular because it was further to go and so I could not get so many loads. The timber came to the wood yards by horse-drawn trailers. This meant dung, which meant pocket money. Drinking troughs for the horses were in The Broadway, Red Lion Street and outside the New Inn at the bottom of Alexander Street. The Council had a man who collected dung, Mr White, who had a yellow handcart. He must have hated us kids, who zoomed along with our trucks, trying to get to the dung before him! We got 4d from Dad or 6d from our clients. Another source of regular income was at Church, where I helped put out the kneelers for evening service and was given a penny. At home we washed up the dinner things before going to Sunday school, one mint lump each as incentive (2d a quarter from Woolworth's). 'Boy wanted to help in shop', I answered the advertisement in Scott and East, which sold ladies hats, underwear and stockings (later a Post Office). Two shillings and six pence per week from 4.30pm to 5.30pm and 9.00am to 1.00pm on Saturdays. I got the job and was able to help Mum buy my clothes. I became envious of boys who had bikes. 'If only', I used to think. One day outside Derrick's pork butchers in Market Square was a sign 'Boy Wanted for One Week'. I hastily went in to see Mr Derrick; he had a super waxed moustache. "Can you ride a bike?", he said. "Yes", I lied. He sent me along to his house in Missenden road to use the hand pump to fill the water tank. I liked doing this. I hated the smell of meat and faggots cooking at the rear of the shop. The crunch came when I had to deliver to Blackwell Hall in Latimer Road. "You've been a long time". "Trouble with the pedals", I replied. On the last day, "Do you know the Eagle pub at Ashley Green?" "Oh yes", I said. He wanted me to deliver a hamper of meat there. Oh dear. I made my way with heavy heart and hamper. Delivery made, I used one foot on pedal and was thankful for the downhill ride home. My mother was waiting for me outside the World Stores Grocery. Mr Derrick gave me the promised five shillings and I ran across the road. "Look, Mum, two half crowns!" Suddenly one fell from my hand and disappeared down a drain. I was so sad; all that work for only 2s 6d. At thirteen years of age I got the job I wanted at F. C. Collins, Grocers and Wine Merchants - 4.15pm to 5.30pm and 8.30am to 1.00pm on Saturdays. Four shillings and six pence a week and any broken biscuits left in tins. By this time I could ride a bike. On Mondays I sat behind the yard door weighing 1lb and 2lb bags of soap flakes, which often blew uncomfortably into my eyes. On Wednesdays I had to cycle to Chesham Bois and White Lion Road, Little Chalfont. This was repeated on Saturday mornings, with Chartridge Lane for good measure and Lodge Lane, Little Chalfont. The delivery consisted of eggs, paraffin and wine and groceries, quite heavy loads. Now I had real pocket money - I could buy Mum an easy chair. The solitary one was Dad's chair, not the best but out of bounds to us. Mum's chair arrived by van from the Co-Op, driven by Mr Hunnibell. At last I got a Post Office savings book and eagerly waited for interest to be added. I continued until February 1937. I was fourteen and ready for work. What should I do? As a boy I fancied being a butler in a large mansion. Dad wanted me to go into the printing trade, but vacancies were scarce. I wanted to go plumbing. After a lot of persuasion Dad said, "I suppose he'd better come to Berko with me". I duly arrived at H. J. Matthews. "How much shall we say?" asked Mr Cutler, the Manager. "Shall we say 4d?" Dad replied. So I was to work forty-eight hours for 4d per hour and the first job was at Apsley Mills for six months' work. A long way for a fourteen year old and to work on a building site but I loved it and respected the craftsmanship of my father. Now I had real money. No need for extra pocket money. Ron Mayne, born 1923 |
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