From: Mike Hitchen (newperspectives@goconnect.net)
Copyright 2000 Mike Hitchen. All Rights Reserved. The right of Mike Hitchen to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Australian Copyright Act 1968. The author has asserted his Moral Rights.
Part 1
They say "You should never go back", but that is exactly what I did. I had no great expectations that everything would be the same, after all it was thirty years since I visited my home town.
Yet I stood on the pavement on a cold and wet afternoon looking at a sign on a shop. "The Candy Box". Amidst new and strange architectural nightmares that made me want to start singing "Little Boxes", an old and familiar sign. Sure, the shop had been modernized. Plate glass windows displayed sweets and chocolates that had never been heard of thirty years ago, but the shop was still there. I wondered what happened to the people who used to run the shop?
Mrs Evans was the first owner, and when she died her daughter Miss Evans took over. I suppose they did have first names, but to us kids it was always Mrs and Miss. We never knew about Mr Evans. Our mums would talk in hushed voices about him, then suddenly change the subject when little flapping ears came too close. "Died in the war" my mum told me when I asked; then told me to go and wash my hands and be quick smart about it because tea was ready.
I never did believe he died in the war. Kids are not daft, they pick up on atmosphere and exchanged glances. Miniature Sherlock Holmes. Anyway, what we didn't know, we invented.
Miss Evans was 25 and very attractive. It was the age of mini-skirts and I remember the furor that erupted when Miss Evans first wore a mini skirt in the shop. "Disgraceful, shouldn't be allowed" or "No discipline that's her problem; her mum was far too soft on her". Mrs Jenkins even informed my mum that "No good will come of that girl, you mark my words."
I didn't mind the mini skirt and neither did Billy Jenkins who got a clip across when the ear when he told his mum so.
It was the bit about no discipline that puzzled me. It was well known to us that Mrs Evans had her own way of dealing of schoolboy and schoolgirl shoplifters. We didn't actually think of it as shoplifting, we just thought of it as "knicking something from the old woman". I laugh at that now, as "The Old Woman was the same age as I am now on this cold, wet afternoon."
Those days were yesterday, but how long ago was yesterday? Sometimes it seems like a hundred years ago; others - well, it seems like yesterday. Too many times perhaps, I wish it was.
Her method was simple and swift. Into the back room for a damn good hiding. Once finished no more was said - it was over and done with. Boys and girls both felt the weight of Mrs Evans justice; equal opportunity I suppose.
She had two implements which she collectively called "The Avengers". This was in the days when boys imagined themselves to be John Steed and the girls, Emma Peel.
If you pinched anything under a shilling it was six with the slipper (called Emma). If it was over a shilling, it was up to nine with the cane, which she named John. Very sexist I suppose, but in those days if you mentioned "glass ceiling" you would either think of a greenhouse, (without even thinking of what effect it may have), or your mum would say "Very nice, but a devil of a job to clean".
Many a young boy or girl would come out from the back room rubbing their bottoms. They always said how hard she whacked, but that they didn't cry. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't, but no one ever seemed to be in the same distress as when Mr Williams the Headmaster (he was a fuuny man), or Mrs Thomas his Deputy gave the cane - and they did it over clothes. Mrs Evans did it on the bare!! .
Read the rest of this rivetting story here
Copyright 2000 Mike Hitchen. All Rights Reserved. The right of Mike Hitchen to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Australian Copyright Act 1968. The author has asserted his Moral Rights.
Part 1
They say "You should never go back", but that is exactly what I did. I had no great expectations that everything would be the same, after all it was thirty years since I visited my home town.
Yet I stood on the pavement on a cold and wet afternoon looking at a sign on a shop. "The Candy Box". Amidst new and strange architectural nightmares that made me want to start singing "Little Boxes", an old and familiar sign. Sure, the shop had been modernized. Plate glass windows displayed sweets and chocolates that had never been heard of thirty years ago, but the shop was still there. I wondered what happened to the people who used to run the shop?
Mrs Evans was the first owner, and when she died her daughter Miss Evans took over. I suppose they did have first names, but to us kids it was always Mrs and Miss. We never knew about Mr Evans. Our mums would talk in hushed voices about him, then suddenly change the subject when little flapping ears came too close. "Died in the war" my mum told me when I asked; then told me to go and wash my hands and be quick smart about it because tea was ready.
I never did believe he died in the war. Kids are not daft, they pick up on atmosphere and exchanged glances. Miniature Sherlock Holmes. Anyway, what we didn't know, we invented.
Miss Evans was 25 and very attractive. It was the age of mini-skirts and I remember the furor that erupted when Miss Evans first wore a mini skirt in the shop. "Disgraceful, shouldn't be allowed" or "No discipline that's her problem; her mum was far too soft on her". Mrs Jenkins even informed my mum that "No good will come of that girl, you mark my words."
I didn't mind the mini skirt and neither did Billy Jenkins who got a clip across when the ear when he told his mum so.
It was the bit about no discipline that puzzled me. It was well known to us that Mrs Evans had her own way of dealing of schoolboy and schoolgirl shoplifters. We didn't actually think of it as shoplifting, we just thought of it as "knicking something from the old woman". I laugh at that now, as "The Old Woman was the same age as I am now on this cold, wet afternoon."
Those days were yesterday, but how long ago was yesterday? Sometimes it seems like a hundred years ago; others - well, it seems like yesterday. Too many times perhaps, I wish it was.
Her method was simple and swift. Into the back room for a damn good hiding. Once finished no more was said - it was over and done with. Boys and girls both felt the weight of Mrs Evans justice; equal opportunity I suppose.
She had two implements which she collectively called "The Avengers". This was in the days when boys imagined themselves to be John Steed and the girls, Emma Peel.
If you pinched anything under a shilling it was six with the slipper (called Emma). If it was over a shilling, it was up to nine with the cane, which she named John. Very sexist I suppose, but in those days if you mentioned "glass ceiling" you would either think of a greenhouse, (without even thinking of what effect it may have), or your mum would say "Very nice, but a devil of a job to clean".
Many a young boy or girl would come out from the back room rubbing their bottoms. They always said how hard she whacked, but that they didn't cry. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't, but no one ever seemed to be in the same distress as when Mr Williams the Headmaster (he was a fuuny man), or Mrs Thomas his Deputy gave the cane - and they did it over clothes. Mrs Evans did it on the bare!! .
Read the rest of this rivetting story here
2 comments:
That was so beautiful, I cried.
Many thanks sweetcheeks :)
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