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

 

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.

The Weekly Shop

Supermarkets were certainly around in the 1970s, and their influence was growing. Many of them had familiar names that are still around today. Tesco, Sainsbury’s, the Co-op and other chains had arrived and were taking more of our money. But supermarket shopping wasn’t quite the same as today. There were fewer products to choose from and far less emphasis on convenience. I don’t recall any having an aisle containing forty different varieties of coffee, breakfast cereal or bottled water.

They didn’t all survive, at least not on the High Street. Who remembers Somerfield, Presto, Fine Fare and Kwik Save? In the eighties I would regularly shop at the last one. The shops were basic and looked like a warehouse. They would pile high and sell cheap. Tins of beans for three or four pence. Most things they sold cost less than a quid. I remember they were eventually bought by Somerfield — who later were taken over by the Co-op. Cheap prices came to an end.

Woolworths was one of the most familiar sights in any town or city centre. “Woolies” was a shop where you could buy a wide variety of things. You could buy anything and everything. At least it felt that way. They packed the shelves with sweets, toys, records, household goods, stationery, haberdashery and countless other odds and ends. You could go in for one thing and come out with a bag full.

They were well known for their pick-and-mix selection.

Then there were other familiar names such as British Home Stores, Marks & Spencer, and Littlewoods department stores. Depending on where you lived, there would also be local department stores with their own character. They were almost institutions in their own right. Old stores that often looked just like Grace Brothers from the comedy series Are You Being Served.

And occasionally we would hear staff saying “I’m free” as a customer waited their turn.

I once had a temporary job working in a shop with the name Bizi Bee Kitchens and Bathrooms. They even advertised on local television, usually on a Friday night. Saturday was often a very busy day. They didn’t survive, though. I expect most of their budget was spent on the ads. They didn’t pay the staff that well.

We all needed money.

It was the 1970s, and money was often tight. Prices were rising, inflation was high and household budgets had to stretch a long way. Well, at least until the following Friday when payday arrived. You bought what you could afford. Brand loyalty was less important. Sometimes it was simply a question of which product was cheapest.

And if we didn’t find what we wanted “up town”, a local shop might have it, even if it was at a higher price.

Local Shops for Local People

One big difference between then and now was the number of smaller local shops. Shopping locally for food meant visiting several shops rather than pushing a trolley around one big supermarket. They could often be found tucked away between rows of houses or on the corner of streets and roads.

You could always find a local shop somewhere nearby.

At the local shop, people were often on first-name terms with the shopkeeper. The local butcher and greengrocer knew their customers. Back in the 1960s, the local butcher certainly knew my family, as he was also our landlord.

There was something personal about it. Some really did look like Arkwright’s corner shop from the BBC comedy of the time, Open All Hours. These shops were less about the customer experience and more about piling the goods high and selling them as cheap as possible. Although in some cases, the prices seemed to be as expensive as possible.

We didn’t shop by reviews; you would have had to buy an expensive fancy food magazine to read those. It was more by word of mouth.

Occasionally, I was tasked with going to the local shop and picking up a few items to earn my pocket money.

“Have you got any decent tomatoes?” I would ask the Ronnie Barker lookalike behind the counter. “My Mam told me to ask for fresh ones.”

“They were all fresh in today when they arrived. That’s the best I can do.”

“And two pork chops, please.”

“That would be the butcher next door.” He’d reply. “I tell you that every week. Look, give me your list, and I will see what I’ve got.”

I handed over the list.

It was almost like a personal service. The shopkeeper would weigh anything that needed to be weighed, wrap it, pick tins off the shelf, and then put it through the till. I would hand over the money.

“Tell your Mam that the price of some on the list has increased a little since last week. I’ll put it on the tick. She can pay me later.”

What was this ‘tick’, I wondered?

To be continued …

 

 

Image — Wikimedia, Geoff Charles, National Library of Wales 1969 — No changes made