When the High Street Was King: Shopping in 1960s and 70s Britain (Part Five) - Christmas Shopping

 

On a recent shopping trip to my local city centre, I visited the local Argos store. It is a big one. Gone are the days when you looked for your purchase in a catalogue, filled out a small form and took it to the counter, and waited for your number to be called.

Today, the shop has terminals. You place an electronic order and then go to the counter.

But the shop was almost deserted. I remember a time when it was bustling.

I also noticed something else as I entered the shop. Right ahead of me was a Christmas tree. Not with full trimmings, tinsel, glitter, and baubles on it, but it was still a Christmas tree.

In the middle of October.

The 1960s/70s Christmas Shopping Experience

Christmas was perhaps when the high street of the 1960s and 70s came alive. Like today, shops stayed open later, their windows transformed into displays designed to tempt you inside. But staying open late was rare for shops back then. There was no 24/7 shopping, and on Sundays, the city centre was deserted. Most shops were shut.

When the High Street Was King: Shopping in 1960s and 70s Britain (Part Four) - The Newsagent

 

For children growing up in the 1970s, the local newsagent could be almost as important as any other shop.

As a young boy, I had my favourite local shops — the toy and sweet shop. But the local newsagent, a shop that doubled as an emergency sweet shop, also had something else that took money from my pocket — comics. They had many to tempt me, including The Beano, The Dandy, Whizzer and Chips and Buster. If they didn’t have it, they could order it for me.

That made a kid feel important. I could order something? Only adults did that sort of thing.

One day I was in my local newsagent’s searching the shelves for a new comic that a schoolmate had told me about — a football comic called Scorcher. He let me read his copy, and I liked it.

There was one character called Billy — the story of his weekly adventures was called Billy’s Boots.

Billy was a schoolboy with big dreams, like me, of being a footballer. He was, however, a poor player until he found an old pair of football boots in his grandmother’s loft. The boots had belonged to a famous player called Charles “Dead Shot” Keen. They had magical qualities, turning Billy into a star player.

I identified with Billy because I too played football in an old pair of boots. They were a secondhand find, but the only magical quality they had was to give me blisters. I was a much better player once I got a new pair that fit.

I assumed that Scorcher would be available at my local newsagent. At least, that’s what I thought. I decided I would buy it on my next visit.

But I was out of luck. 

The Writer's Life: The Freedom of Writing for Its Own Sake

 

As writers, we need to find our own reasons for doing what we do. I’ve asked myself that question many times. 

There is certain freedom in writing without worrying too much about the outcome. Somewhere along the way, however, enjoyment can become tangled with performance. We compare ourselves with others. We set targets. We become frustrated when progress is slower than expected.

For some, writing is a career. They may be the lucky ones. For others, it is a creative outlet, a means of self-expression or a way to preserve memories — a form of legacy that will remain long after the writer has departed. Some want to entertain, while others want to inform or make sense of the world around them. There is no single definition of success that fits everyone, and I suspect that for most who write, there are a mix of reasons for doing so.

And it isn’t always about the money! 

I concluded long ago that writing is like the creative world in general. There is an elite at the top who do very well, followed by a few who might make a decent living out of it. The vast majority probably struggle to make anything.

Did You Know Snippets: 1960s and 70s Britain - The Golden Age of the Electric Milk Float

 

Electric milk floats were first seen on the roads and streets of Britain in 1932. The Express Dairy Company introduced a small fleet of electric vehicles in London that eventually replaced the more traditional horse-drawn milk float. 

By the 1960s and 70s, electric milk floats were everywhere.

Early each day, long before most of us were awake, the soft humming sound of an electric motor powered milk float signalled the arrival of the milkman. There was no engine roar and no exhaust fumes. Just a steady, reliable hum delivering fresh milk to doorsteps across the country.

It’s easy to forget now, but these electric milk floats were, in many ways, decades ahead of their time. Long before electric cars became the future of transport, they were quietly going about their business through the streets of Britain every day.

Their near-silent operation meant milk was delivered without waking the entire street. At least, the low hum wouldn’t wake you. Occasionally the rattling of crates and bottles reminded us that the milkman was on his way. But their silence was not the reason electric vehicles were used.

Electric power did the job in a way that petrol engines couldn’t match. Milk floats were typically battery-powered, designed specifically for short, frequent journeys. And that’s exactly what was required, as the float was constantly stopping and starting. The milkman would make dozens, sometimes hundreds, of stops on his round every morning.

Did You Know Snippets: 1960s and 70s Britain - When Pirate Radio Changed the Airwaves

 

In 1975, our annual family holiday took us to the Lincolnshire coast of Chapel St Leonards. I took a small radio with me, as I had plans to listen to the pirate radio station, Radio Caroline. 

In 1964, Radio Caroline began broadcasting to Britain from a ship offshore. It was a direct challenge to the radio monopoly of the BBC. Caroline, an unlicensed station, was the first of many off-shore pirate broadcasters that offered something different. 

The pirate stations appealed to a younger audience. 

But only if you could find them.

I had been told that it was possible to listen to Radio Caroline, even inland. But I doubted that was true. It was difficult enough to pick up another popular radio station back then, Radio Luxembourg, but find Radio Caroline? A ship that was somewhere off the coast of England. I was never quite sure where they were. 

No one seemed to know.

When the High Street Was King: Shopping in 1960s and 70s Britain (Part Three) - The Toy Shop

The local toyshop, just around the corner from my home back in the 1960s, was a treasure trove for local children. It seemed that every toy we could ever want was in that small shop. 

Mind you, at the time it didn’t look small. 

To a small boy, though, it was big, stacked from top to bottom with every toy imaginable. I only discovered, years later when I revisited the area, just how small the shop was. It was in a row of local shops, conveniently next door to my favourite sweet shop.

I would visit the toyshop several times a week, mostly window shopping, but occasionally I would pluck up the courage to go in. As you walked in, the left side of the shop sold toys for boys. To the right, girls' toys. Needless to say, I never crossed the boundary to the right. 

The shopkeeper would look in my direction. 

“Hello again.” He would say, in recognition of my many visits. “What interests you today?”

“Just looking." I would reply.

“Well, don’t look for too long, because next time you come in, what you want now might be sold.” 

The shopkeeper tried his best to encourage me to spend.

When the High Street Was King: Shopping in 1960s and 70s Britain (Part Two) - The World of Cash

 

Buying something on 'tick' is a British idiom that means to buy on credit. 

It might be used alongside other idioms, like to buy on the “never-never”. Often people would use both. 

Another way of paying later that was popular in pubs was to buy drinks and then ask the barman to "put it on the slate”.

It probably helped if you were friends with the publican.

In many ways it was a system based on trust.

Buying on “tick” and the “never-never” or “putting it on the slate" were all forms of credit, but not in a legal sense. Typically, it was often a private arrangement, and perhaps most importantly, there was usually no interest to pay. In other words, you just owed the shopkeeper or publican money for goods purchased. It was one way of helping customers through the week until they got paid. It worked as long as you settled your bill on time; otherwise, you might end up being banned or barred.

And it was different from purchasing items by using an actual credit card. The first credit card was introduced in Britain on 29 June 1966 by Barclays, but it would take a long time for their use to become widespread. For the most part even paying by cheque was rare. Most people didn’t have a chequebook or that type of bank account. 

In fact, many people didn’t even have a bank account.

And debit cards were also some way off in the future as well.

The 1960s and 70s were a time when cash was king.

When the High Street Was King: Shopping in 1960s and 70s Britain (Part One) - The Weekly Shop

 

Back in the 1960s and 70s, Saturday was the big day of the week when people went shopping. The weekend often began with a shopping trip.

“Up town”

Even if you lived in a city, a shopping trip was typically referred to as going “up town”.

I still make those Saturday shopping trips to my local city centre, but things look very different now. The side streets have just as many closed shops as open. It has been that way for many years, and the city centre today is nowhere near as busy as it was in the past. While there are calls to revitalise city centres, it tends to overlook that people have more choice as to where and how they shop today.

There wasn’t as much choice in the 1970s. There were local shops and markets, but out-of-town (or city) shopping centres were still only a town planner’s dream. The first arrived at Brent Cross in London in 1976. Out-of-town superstores had been around for a while, although I only rarely visited one.

We mostly went “up town” to do our Saturday shop.

There was a time when the high street and the city centre were the place to go when it came to shopping. Before online shopping and before everything could be delivered to your front door with the click of a button, most of us went shopping in person.

That meant a car or bus journey, sometimes a walk.

On Saturday morning, the town centre was often "packed" by nine o'clock. Shops were full, queues long, and buses arrived every five minutes. If you wanted a new pair of shoes, you went to the shoe shop. If you wanted a record, you went to the record shop. If you needed a birthday present, you went into “town” and looked around the shops. Christmas shopping was hectic, and it didn't begin in October either.

As a young boy, if I wanted toys, which was most of the time, I would visit an actual toy shop. I remember one in the city centre that was massive and had every toy I could ever want. The fact that I would always leave the shop empty-handed, with a “Maybe at Christmas” comment from my parents, gave me hope that often failed to deliver.

Santa must have forgotten.

Life in 1960s/70s Britain: The Comfort Foods That Kept Us Going - Bread and Dripping: So Good It Caused Riots

 

If ever there was a meal that perfectly reflected Britain’s frugal past, it had to be bread and dripping. Perhaps hard to believe now, but there was a time when it was seen as a nutritious and desirable meal. A meal that was eaten regularly across the land.

But what was bread and dripping?

Back in the 1960s and 70s, for many it was almost a staple meal. In our house it was served as a once a week event, on Sunday. That was the day when a traditional beef roast was cooked. When finished, the fat left in the roasting tin wasn’t thrown away. Instead, it was poured into a pot and allowed to cool. It was then used to spread on bread, or as a cooking fat.

When I went to live with my gran in the early 1970s, she would always serve up a couple of slices of bread and dripping after Sunday dinner. There was a skill to getting it right, though. The right balance between the leftover meat juices and fat was key. Often the rich meat juices settled underneath the layer of fat, creating an extra burst of flavour. Out of the pot, it would be spread onto bread or toast, sometimes with a little salt and pepper.

Too much fat, though, could spoil the sandwich — or maybe that was just me? I was not that keen on too much fat. It could be served at any time, as a filling afternoon snack or as a simple supper. In an emergency, it was a lunchtime sandwich to take to school.

To modern eyes it may sound unhealthy, and it was. A sandwich, the contents of which were mostly fat - and it wasn’t good fat. Exactly the opposite, it was loaded with saturated bad fat. But the truth was, many people were blissfully unaware of the dangers of too much saturated fat back then. 

And who was going to tell us anyway? 

We were years away from healthy lifestyle information being readily available. This was a time when many people were more concerned about wasting what was seen as perfectly good food than its fat content. The dripping from a roast dinner was simply an opportunity to make more meals. 

And then there was the cost.

With money and household budgets often tight, we ate what was available. Leftovers often became the next meal. Throwing food away simply wasn’t an option. It’s another reminder that previous generations often had to make every penny count and that austerity was nothing new.

People have even rioted over dripping.

Five More TV Catchphrases That Defined 1960s & 70s Britain

Following on from our look at five famous television catchphrases that became part of everyday British life in the 1960s and 70s, here are five more that many people of a certain age will remember instantly. 

Catchphrases from television programmes which became a part of the language of the time.

Love them or hate them, a catchphrase once heard almost had a life of its own. And if you were in the business of show business and were the one who came up with the catchphrase that took off, you would be remembered forever.

So, let’s get started.

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“I didn’t get where I am today …” — C.J. from the BBC comedy series The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin and The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin

The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin is the story of a burnt-out and very bored executive, Reginald Perrin. Written by David Nobbs, it tells the story of Reginald Iolanthe Perrin.

Simply known as Reggie, Perrin was played by Leonard Rossiter. The series follows Reggie as he faces a midlife crisis and decides to fake his own death. He leaves behind his old life and searches for something better. He ends up working on a farm looking after pigs and soon realises that the grass is not always as green on the other side.

His boss, C.J., was played by John Barron. C.J. is the pompous managing director of Sunshine Desserts who sees himself as above all those around him. Whenever he disapproved of or questioned anyone, he would always use his favourite expression:

“I didn’t get where I am today by …”

He would then offer his opinion — a supposedly wiser observation about business or life that questioned the proposition. The humour was in the repetition. C.J. was completely convinced of his own self-importance, while everyone around him either feared him or took no notice.

The phrase was one to use as a joke. As a putdown, it could be adapted to almost any situation.

“Eat your greens.” Mam might chastise me across the dinner table.

“I didn’t get where I am today by eating greens …”

You didn’t even need to finish the sentence. Everyone knew what was coming.

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“I’m free!” — Mr Humphries, from the BBC comedy series Are You Being Served?

Another phrase that became part of British popular culture came from the BBC sitcom Are You Being Served? Mr Humphries was played by John Inman. He worked on the menswear counter at the fictional Grace Brothers department store.

His famous cry of “I’m free!” was delivered with a knowing, flamboyant and somewhat camp flourish that raised the inevitable question about Mr Humphries; was the character gay? I can’t remember it ever being mentioned in the series, and Mr Humphries did occasionally mention girlfriends. No answer was given.

There was no doubt that the character of Mr Humphries was camp, though. His reply of “I’m free!” became one of the show’s most recognisable jokes. The character and catchphrase reflected the risqué, innuendo-filled style of British sitcom comedy that followed in the tradition of the Carry On films. It became increasingly popular during the 1970s.