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.
A World of Cash
People were paid in cash.
I tell a story in When I was a Lad. Here’s a snippet.
Long Tall Sally and the Brown Packet of Joy
The Friday afternoon ritual.
I had one job after leaving school, where Friday afternoon, everyone started to look out for a woman called Sally. I was told to keep an eye out for her, as she was special. I wondered if it had anything to do with the song Long Tall Sally by Little Richard, which was often played on the factory floor.
“How would I know Sally?” I asked. “You will know.” Came the reply.
They were right. Sally was in her mid-thirties, tall, with long auburn hair, attractive, and well dressed. She was a secretary from the typing pool and stood out straight away from everyone else on the factory floor. And yes, once she appeared, I guessed who she was.
On Friday afternoon, she was the bringer of joy to all the staff.
That joy was a little brown paper packet that had money inside. It held notes and coins, our wages for the week. She carried them all in a box and sat at a table as we queued and waited our turn to be paid.
In the world of work of the 1970s, we were paid in cash. Every Friday, every week. Not by payment to your bank at the end of the month. We actually got to see the money. It wasn’t just numbers and digits on a bank statement. Holding the actual money, especially if you were well paid, made the weekend and that Saturday shopping trip a more pleasurable experience.
Shopping meant carrying physical money. Paying by credit card in shops was only for the privileged few. You either had cash in your pocket or, if you were really well paid, a cheque book.
For children, when Friday arrived, we all knew what that meant — pocket money time. We knew nothing of the world of work and where money came from, but we did know that on Friday, we might be given a few coins to spend on sweets, comics, or toys. Those coins had to last the whole week, though. We would have to wait until the next Friday if we spent it all at once.
“Make it last.” My mother would say.
I soon found that it didn’t always last.
Mind you, the money often came with strings attached. Had I been a good boy? Had I helped with errands and little jobs around the house? Had I done enough to earn it?
When times were tough, I wasn’t always given pocket money but found a few extra ways to earn a little cash. I suppose today we would call them side hustles. I would take the empty beer and pop bottles back to the off-licence and do a few errands for neighbours. Eventually, I got a paper round and was paid several shiny coins each week for my time.
And many of those coins were spent at a shop just around the corner from where I lived.
The Local Sweet Shop
This shop was a special place for a young boy.
I'd walk in, and the door would ring with the tinkle of a bell. Each wall had many shelves with row after row of jars, packets and chocolate bars. The goodies were all placed in a way that tormented us with the choice on offer — an almost irresistible temptation. You could stand at the counter for hours thinking about how best to spend your precious pocket money.
“Come on," said the shopkeeper. “Have you decided yet? I haven’t got all day, young man.”
One chocolate bar or two? A packet of sweets? A few penny chews? Perhaps a mixture of everything? I could buy a Twix, Topic or Aztec bar perhaps? But hold on a minute; those Opal Fruits and Cadbury Mini Eggs look good. That Chunky Bar looks too good to miss as well, or maybe a Milky Bar? You can’t go wrong with a Milky Bar, according to the Milky Bar Kid on Telly.
It almost rivalled Woolies for pick and mix.
The great skill was getting the maximum amount of enjoyment from the smallest amount of money. Knowing how much money you had left was important. If you only had 10p in your pocket, you knew that was 10p you could spend. Once it was gone, it was gone.
And in the back of my mind I knew there were other temptations out there waiting for my money.
For a start, there was the local toy shop, just next door.
To be continued …
Photo by Keal Mapletoft on Unsplash
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