DAVID LANE’S MEMORIES OF BENSON’S SHOPS AND BUSINESSES IN THE 1950'S

 

 

Benson High Street had very few shops and businesses in the 1950’s compared to a hundred years before. If you started at Castle Square, the two Inns were still there but there were no shops. Chamberlains Stores was the first shop in the High Street, on the left, and then round the corner was Mr. Wharton’s garage. The old Red Lion pub had been closed for some time and the RAF were now using it as temporary accommodation for forces families.

 

 

Across the road on the corner of Mill Lane was Toms’ sweet shop. To me as a young boy it seemed a rather strange shop, a dark and forbidding place. The sweets looked as though they had been in the glass case for years, but it was the only place to buy ‘Fisherman’s Friends.’ I remember Nora Toms, wearing very old-fashioned clothes, walking down to church on Sunday evening. Her two brothers, one walking on either side of the road, would go off to the river for an evening’s fishing. Apparently they had had an argument and didn’t talk to each other for years afterwards.

 

 

Past Mill Lane you came to Gerald Aldridge’s drapers shop, now Kingsford House; I was always fascinated by the pulley system that sent the customer’s money to the cashier and then brought the change back. The next shop was Mrs. Wharton’s bread and cake shop, where we often bought a ‘milk loaf’ and some cream horns. Two doors further on was Slaughters Stores, (“Visit Benson’s ‘London West End’ provision store,” as it said in the advert) another grocer’s shop, but which was somewhat smaller than Chamberlains.

 

 

Next-door to this was a small wooden building where Stan Blissett ran his gent’s hairdressers business; small boys, like Stephen and I, could get a crewcut for sixpence but, sometimes you had to wake Stan up first. This was also where parcels could be left to go by bus to any of the villages on its route between Oxford and Reading for a small fee. Earlier this shop had been used as a tobacconists and sweet shop by R. E. Pengilly. Mr. Blisset had originally used a small tin shed that used to stand next to Ken Passey’s house in Oxford Road.

 

 

A few doors along was the first of the two butcher’s shops and opposite the first one was F. J. Franklin the watchmaker and jeweller. The last shop on the right hand side, beyond the second butcher’s shop, was the post office; this was run by Mr. Shotton who also sold a wide selection of toys and stationery here, as well as tickets for Salters Steamers and South Midland Coaches. Across the road was the newsagents’ shop where we bought our ‘jamboree bags’ and chews for four a penny; this shop advertised ‘personal attention on all occasions,’ I think that statement could be taken the wrong way today. The last shop on this side was Mr. Taylor’s fruit and veg shop; Mrs. Taylor was a teacher at the village school.

 

 

There was another small fruit and veg shop, on the right hand side of Brook Street, when we first moved to Benson; the house is now called Wisteria Cottage I think. Then further up the street on the left hand side was Vera’s antiques and lastly, opposite Passey’s Yard, was where Mr. Pickin used a small barn as a showroom for his secondhand and antique furniture. As a small boy I once broke a hand carved ostrich egg, which now would be worth a good deal of money, while my mother talked to Mr. Pickin about a piece of furniture.

 

 

The part of Chamberlains stores seen by the customers was only a small portion of what was a very large building. There were three large rooms on the ground floor as well as five upstairs, plus a large cellar. Many years before, bread had been baked on the shop premises but was by now supplied from Chamberlains other shop in Wallingford. The old bread oven was still there, as where the huge galvanized bins that had been used to hold the flour. Wines, beers and soft drinks were kept cool in the cellar, and a large meat safe, where the bacon was kept, had been built in one of the back rooms where the outside door could be left open to create a draught.

 

 

Chamberlains shop was of course, like most shops counter service, and unlike today, had half-day closing on Wednesday afternoons and was closed all day Sunday. A customer had to ask for every item required, the assistant then went to fetch it, list all of the items in longhand and then add up the cost. The bill was then taken to the kiosk, where the cashier would check the figures before affixing a receipt to the bill and handing it, along with any change, back to the customer. All of this was done without the aid of calculators or electronic tills. It was quite possible to spend half an hour in the shop buying just half a dozen items.

 

 

Many goods were sold loose and had to be weighed; things like rice, dried fruit, biscuits and even tea, while coffee would be freshly roasted and ground. Cheese was delivered in sixty-pound round blocks, two to a wooden crate. It was necessary to peal off the waxed skin from the cheese, which was a favorite job of mine once I was strong enough to do it. As so many things were loose, customers could ask for very small quantities: two rich tea biscuits, two ounces of butter or, on a good day, even half a large loaf if there were no small ones left.

 

 

When I hear people talk today about hygiene in shops I have to smile because, if what I have heard is true, my father should have wiped out half the village with food poisoning, and Slaughters Stores would have dealt with the rest. Neither shop had a large cold-room, refrigeration was not up to much, there was little pre-packed food; shrink-wrapping did not exist, only greaseproof paper. During the summer it was impossible to keep flies off the bacon and this meant having to check for fly eggs and maggots on the meat. Once cleared off, the best treatment was a wash down with vinegar; this was also used when the bacon was dry and going green. We were obviously made of stronger stuff in those days, as I can’t remember spending my life in bed with an upset stomach. At least we didn’t still hang meat outside the front of the shop like the butchers used to at the beginning of the century.

           

Dad was a good provisions man; he always cooked the best ham and sold the best cheese and bacon. In later years, even the provisions man from a branch of International Stores used to come to Dad for his bacon. Although always very polite to customers, he wasn’t always pleased with their requests. I fondly remember on one occasion a lady came into the shop and wanted some rashers of oyster cut bacon sliced very thin. Dad went out the back to see if he had a suitable piece in the fridge and when he found some he slammed it into the bacon-slicer; “Like bloody net curtains,” he cursed, “blasted customers.” Then he re-entered the shop and asked if the bacon was all right, just as polite as always, then back outside to kick a couple of boxes across the yard. I suppose it was his way of letting off steam without the all-important customer knowing how he really felt on a bad day.

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