Shopkeepers Of Cawdor Street

A Memory of Patricroft.

From Trafford Road one would see the first shop was on the left of Cawdor Street; the workshop of Louis Donlan, tailor. Next on the left was Bolsover’s Grocery shop; popular with some customers because 'sterilized milk' was sold there. The shop was taken over by another family,their only daughter named, Alma. Next door was Mrs Rogerson’s Toffee shop; she stocked glacier mint and slabs of caramel. These she smashed with a small ‘toffee hammer’, head and handle combined, the tool was solid cast iron. At the corner of Enfield Street was the Tailor’s Shop of Louis Donlan. The story known to most of the kids in the area was the following interchange. Arthur Merryshaw was looking in the shop window. Louis opened the door, and stood on the doorstep. He said “You vant to buy?” – A shake of the head from Arthur, “No?” Arthur’s face remained locked “So take your snotty nose avay from my vindow.” The newsagent’s shop was on the other corner of Enfield Streets. The shop was taken over by Charlie Cooper, he and I got along famously. He offered me a job delivering papers. I worked for Charlie delivering newspapers for several years. Vera Jones delivered a second ‘route’, less papers but a longer distance. Charlie and I; we walked to the ‘top of Cawdor Street’ to get the evening papers. On Saturdays, we would go again for the 'Football Pinks', pink newspapers for customers to check their ‘Littlewoods Football Pool’. Charlie also sold sweets and cigarettes. The cigarettes packets were wrapped in plain paper for ‘regular’ customers, only Charlie knew who got what amount of ciggies. Charlie’s wife was very beautiful; she was at least a head taller than Charlie. At about age 14 their son, Barry, was killed on Worsley Brow. Returning home from horse riding on his bike, he collided with a car. Directly facing Enfield Street on the opposite side of the street, were two shops side by side. On the right was Alf Kenyon’s Greengrocers shop and on the left at the corner of Adelaide Street, was Cissy Kenyon’s Pie shop.
Alf Kenyon was a shouter - his normal voice was a shout. He had a very pretty wife, a son, Roy, and a daughter, Norma, who was also very pretty. Beatty Peel, a neighbour helped out at the pie shop. The pie shop closed because of ill health, Cissy had great difficulty walking. The pie shop was transformed into a second hand book store, I used to buy Joke books there. The Barton Inn, on the other corner of Adelaide Street. Loyal patrons would sit on Cooper’s shop windowsill to march smartly across the road as the doors swung for opening time. At Christmas, a ‘conga’ line exited from the Adelaide street door, dance around the Cawdor Street corner, and re-enter the front door. The locals were annoyed at the ‘Yanks’ from Burtonwood boozing in the ‘Barton Inn’ while 200 fish and chips were fried, wrapped and packed in ammunition containers, at the chip shop, next door for them to take back to base. The family that worked the chip shop lived away out of the area. They sold something called a scallop, it wasn’t really a scallop. Dipped in batter and deep fried were two thin slices of potato with a strip of fish sandwiched between them. Then next door to the Chippy was the Hardware and Houseware shop of 'old man Norris'. Mrs Barlow kept a greengrocer’s shop next to Norris’s, it was quite dark inside and various kinds of herbs hung from a ceiling rail. One of the nice things about shopping at Barlow’s was that she had gorgeous twin granddaughters who sometimes helped in the shop. I think that their family name was Rooney.
Cyril Norris had the establishment on the corner of Wade Street. In the same business as his dad, but he hawked his stock in the mornings with a pony and cart. He used the pony and cart in the afternoons for 'light portering', in this endeavour I sometimes would help him. Cyril was crippled in his left arm and leg. His wife also had an impediment, a cleft pallet. Her speech was unintelligible. She called Cyril “ih-ul”. Bob Broomhead’s butcher shop was on the other corner of Wade. He was good at making sausages. Bob 'put up' for town council one time as a Conservative candidate and on polling day he sent round a car to take people to vote. Our mother, a Liberal, had me take the liberal poster from our front window. Bob’s wife came and asked our mother to go and “give a vote for Bob”. I know she rode to the polling station in Bob’s car, I don’t know who she voted for.
Another Bob, two doors further along the right side of the street, was Bob Horton in his barber’s shop. Our mother wouldn’t let me go to Bob Horton for a haircut because “he didn’t do a proper job”. I was forced to go to Berry’s on Liverpool Road. There were two Mr Berrrys - young Mr Berry who cut adult's hair, and old Mr Berry who tortured children. Young Mr Berry had electric trimmers. Old Mr Berry wielded, hand clippers. The "ouch” exclamation was met with the command to “keep still”. It is no wonder I would sneak into Bob Horton's for a stress free haircut. And our mother always knew my transgression.