The Real Winters of The 1940s

I recall, with the occasional shudder, the freezing cold winters of the 1940s. I spent Saturday evenings earning a couple of shillings (that's 10p to you youngsters!!) working from 4.30pm to 6.00pm selling newspapers in the centre part of the crossover bridge at Motspur Park railway station. I worked for Berny Bromhead, who had a newspaper kiosk that was situated in the wide pedestrian walkway that led from Claremont Avenue, through to the railway station and the bridge. I wasn't allowed to leave my 'pitch' for the duration of 4.30pm - 6.00pm. If I was getting short of papers, I would shout down to the kiosk and Berny, with his obligatory piece of chewing gum being chewed at a rather sedate pace, accompanied by the largest 'dew drop' you have ever seen hanging from the end of his nose, would bound up the bridge stairway, sniffling and puffing, at a pace that would put some youngsters to shame. Berny at this time was, I think, in his late thirties or early forties and I believe also suffered with flat feet, which made his galloping up the railway bridge even more spectacular. When asked why he ran up the stairs so quickly, his reply was that he didn't want me to run out of papers, as this would make a difference to his profits at the end of the day. After completing my Monday to Friday evening paper round, to enable me to earn a bit more pocket money, Berny asked me if I would 'man' his small kiosk at the front of the Odeon cinema at Shannon's Corner, again selling newspapers.
There used to be three papers on the stall, namely The Evening News, The Star and The Evening Standard. If takings were not to Berny's liking, he would give me a lesson in salesmanship by attending (very briefly) the stall that I manned, stand at the front of the cinema canopy where the stall was situated and bawl, at the top of his lungs: 'NEWS, STAR, STANDARD, CLASSIFIED RESULTS, EVERY ONE A WINNER'. After a couple of Saturdays I had had enough of that particular job, one of the reasons being that on the first Saturday I tried to sell a newspaper to my school headmaster, who just happened to be going to the cinema that evening with his wife (I think it was his wife!!) and who started to ask embarrassing questions regarding my ability to give people the right change, due to my being (in his opinion) a complete flop at school maths!! The second Saturday was the decider. The Shannon Corner Odeon cinema was situated on a major crossroads. One road was Burlington Road, the other was the main A3. Although there wasn't much traffic (including the once-every-quarter-of-an-hour trolley bus going to either Wimbledon Town hall, or in the other direction, to Kingston or Hampton Court), in those long-lost halcyon days of yesteryear the wind, rain and snow would drive under the canopy with a real vengeance, causing a tremendous draught, and one of the obstacles in its way was ME. After being frozen to the bone a couple of times, it was time to say good bye to the lovely old Odeon, my newspaper stand and, of course, another two shillings (10p). I still kept my paper rounds and worked for Berny untill 1950.
I often wonder if Berny (and his assistant) ever made it to the big time and left that kiosk in the pedestrian walkway and did they ever get a PROPER shop? If anybody out there knows the answer, please, let me know. Many thanks.
Neil MacGregor