Old Folks of today - How did we survive?

An old style slide

I smiled to myself this week as I read an article in an English magazine regarding their Governments concern at the number of "old people" who seem to be increasing in numbers and how their society is going to be able to afford to keep them in these days of economic woe.
This is similar to the current situation in New Zealand and there are plenty of articles appearing in local newspapers discussing the merits of raising the retirement age to 67 and how we could wind up with a country full of geriatrics and no young working people, making enough tax to cope.

The article went on to describe some of the more dangerous items the older generation got up to as kids, such as swinging on a rubber tyre swing with no soft landing underneath, walking to school unaccompanied and they included a photo of a young lass eating strawberries straight from the garden! Now how  dangerous is that!

Modern "No Risk" sign

The author made me think of my childhood where Hygiene was another minefield. There was no "sell-by date" on anything or "best before" dates on food products and everything was eaten until every last morsel had been eaten. As we had no fridge, the remains of the Sunday roast (a weekly ritual as long as Dad wasn't away driving a train) were stored in a meat safe that had fine mesh and was built into the outside wall for fresh air. The meat that was left over became a source of further cooking ingenuity before finally ending up as rissoles or some other minced concoction

NOTE# We have a safe in our existing kitchen which will disappear in next months kitchen upgrade. Unfortunately the doors don't fit properly and  it let's in too much cold air to be of any use)

I can remember when we were given a small cool box that sat on the bench and had some sort of contraption at the top where ice was placed. This kept the interior cool until more ice was installed and I know that when we eventually secured our 1st fridge it was really a "marvel of the age". We certainly take too much for granted these days. Children just don't seem to get a chance to be children anymore and they don't learn how to react to dangerous situations when they do arise. 

Modern "Monkey Bar"

Our attitudes to one another have been turned upside down and there are too many examples of "Politically correct" examples where children are just not allowed to be free spirits as we were. When I was at Parnell primary school in the late 1940s and 50s we had a metal bar atop a couple of wooden uprights which we called a "monkey bar" and the idea was to hang onto this bar, usually upside down and work your way across it. It was just hard packed soil underneath, very muddy in Winter. We played tennis, football, cricket and our version of softball (a tennis ball on top of a rubber pipe that was fitted over a wicket) 

Tree Climbing fun!

 Everyone climbed the numerous trees that surrounded the school and while there were some falls and scrapes I don't remember anyone actually "hurting themselves" too much.

So if there are a larger number of old folk suddenly draining the economy, it just proves that a little danger didn't do anyone too much harm. I realise that the dangers of modern life are on a larger scale than my day, but if we keep cosseting our children too much the retirement age may have to drop rather than increase as they just won't have the same stamina as today's "Senior Citizens!"

Children can't learn responsibility if they are never allowed to have any, and yet we scratch our heads and wonder why children today are not as mature.

Pasted from <http://natureschild-natureboy.blogspot.co.nz/2012_02_01_archive.html>

# An article in another newspaper I read today tells of a woman who spotted a lady this week, walking through a local park with a baby strapped to her body in a baby sling. The baby was wearing a crash helmet! We're doomed!!

(I have an idea that the child may already have a head injury and needs continual support to save any further damage!)

Friday Nights - A Grand Mix of Rugby, Coffee, Cheese & Bacon

HUTCHINSON DAYS

The end of the current Super 15 Rugby season has brought back fond memories of my time as a shop assistant in a grocery/delicatessen store in the heart of Queen Street Auckland. I started as a very junior "counter jumper" as we were called and left the company some 27 years later having worked in every division of the company including the Retail and Wholesale Grocery branches and the Wines and Spirits division. I even got to open and manage a new branch of Hutchinson Brothers in the suburb of Blockhouse Bay in Auckland.

Hutchinsons still sell cheese!

 I had started work on the day of my 15th birthday at a Woolworths store some 12 months before, but had become a bit disillusioned when I wound up in the electrical department in the basement of the shop. This store was also in Lower Queen street and was named the "Roxy" branch after a movie theater situated close by. Woolworths had a number of daily chores which had to be maintained "or else!" and one of them was to remove the small glass inserts on each counter that divided it up into individual squares which contained the products for sale. I got heartily sick of polishing light bulbs, batteries and jug cords every day and cleaning and wiping the glass strips that separated each display container. The only entertainment was from a couple of hard case characters who operated the key cutting concession at the bottom of the stairs and their interaction with the young teenage girls who worked on the neighbouring biscuit counter. Every day brought some light relief as they conjured up hilarious schemes to keep the girls on their toes! One day I had a very lengthy discussion with a floor manager about my future prospects and when I started getting a bit grumpy, I was sacked for "insubordination!"

Similar to Hutchinsons

It was 1958 and I had already been turned down by the NZ Railway as being too young to join up (this had been my lifelong ambition to follow in my Fathers footsteps) so I went looking for another job. I walked up Queen Street and saw and advert in a shop window and after a 10 minute interview was hired on the spot and started work the next day. I could fill a book with my escapades over the next 8 years in this main branch of Hutchinson Bros Ltd and I enjoyed every moment of my employment with this company. Hutchinsons were recognized as being the leading importers of fine foods in New Zealand, particularly imported cheese and as import restrictions were in force in the early years their import licenses were extremely valuable. As a new boy I was given many of the more menial tasks, such as sweeping the floor, cleaning cabinets and suchlike, but in-between I was asked to help out on the counter. The store was ringed by counters (no self service in those days) and we had a Biscuit/Bread counter, Groceries, Coffee counter, Cheese counter, Bacon & ham counter and a Delicatessen counter with cold meats, salamis etc. Most counters had two permanent staff but there were other staff moving around as required.

A typical  cheese display

Oh what a lot of fun! I learned how to cut 80lb cheeses, prepare hams and bacon for smoking, weigh and wrap a myriad of products (no sellotape, just brown paper bags or two size brown paper roll) the coffee counter had two huge glass grinders and one electric grinder for very fine coffee and we weighed everything from under-counter bins. The hours were from 8.30am to 5.15 Mon-Thurs and 8.30am to 8.30pm on Friday and we closed for the weekend and my initial pay was 4 pounds per week (prior to decimal coinage 10th July 1967)

Friday was Late shopping night in New Zealand and had a character all of it's own. This was the time when lot's of families came to Queen Street to shop at the large department stores and then maybe go to the movies. We were always very busy on Friday's and once we had finished our tea hour (dinner time) we usually started the major effort to clean up after a weeks work, while still serving customers. Trevor Miller was the Manager (one of the best bosses I ever had) and his Assistant was Dave Menzies who had been an excellent Rugby footballer and had been selected for the Maori All Black team who had played against a visiting Springbok team from South Africa in 1956. Dave had played in the back line (no 14) and was a fit and lean chap with a very competitive nature and of course his world revolved around Rugby or anything to do with our National sport (read religion) 

Springbok Rugby Tour

This was before the era of blatant racism, but we were aware of misgivings by the South Africans at playing "coloured folk" On Friday night he would hold court with a number of famous Local and National heroes who would come into the shop and converse with Dave. Maunga Emery, Snow White and Eric Boggs are names that come to mind and we looked on in awe of these blokes who had featured in the newspapers. Dave had played a test at Eden Park against a tough Springbok team with over 51686 people attending and was quite a hero amongst the staff. I was able to show him my missing front tooth from my own Junior rugby career, but it didn't seem to interest him very much. (I wonder if my tooth is still lodged in that large Polynesian thigh of classmate Joe Cowan, after I tried to tackle him when he was going flat out?") I have tried to find out where Dave went to after he left Hutchinsons, but to no avail so far.

A Classic 56 Rugby Cartoon

I really enjoyed Friday Nights and the atmosphere, especially at Christmas time and I certainly wouldn't like to  be in a retail environment under today's regime, where shops are hardly ever closed! I do feel personally that we have lost something and it can't be very helpful to family home life if Mum or Dad has to work on weekends and have time of in lieu during the week. Oh well, I guess that's life in this day and age. 

I often think that my generation has had the best of days!

BriansBash: A Racing Bike, Spuds and a Picket Fence UPDATE

BriansBash: A Racing Bike, Spuds and a Picket Fence

The Old Crash Site!

Lyn and I visited Parnell this weekend and I was able to go to the scene of the bike crash site. The picket fence and the power pole are still there! I seem to remember the original picket fence was bigger than the one that is there now and the power pole was wood not concrete! The rise in the road is just before the Police station, but the thought of crashing into a truck at the bottom of the hill is still as vivid today as it was 57 odd years ago! I can't believe how Parnell has altered in the intervening years as many of the old houses have been replaced by small factories and warehouses, interspersed with identifiable cottages from my past.

A Racing Bike, Spuds and a Picket Fence

An early Self Help Store

Interesting to read this week that a new chain of Delicatessens are being opened in New Zealand called "Nosh". The report in the newspaper breathlessly commented that they would carry a huge range of "food goodies" to satisfy every palate. There was also an article on Supermarket shoppers now being able to order their groceries online and have them delivered! Well Whoopee Doo!

One of my jobs as a teenager living in the Parnell suburb of Auckland was delivering groceries after school. Customers either rang their orders through or a child might deliver a hand held note to the grocers shop with a list of goods to be delivered, so this is basically back to the future!

One of the stores I worked for was a company called SELF HELP and the deliveries were made by via a large heavy grocers bike with a metal basket on the front. I was used to riding my own bike which was much lighter and smaller, so I always had difficulty riding the delivery bike. It didn't have a basket in the front like many of that era, so we used to put a carton inside to stop the groceries from falling through. Parnell is surrounded by many steep hills and the streets are also very steep and as I wasn't a very big bloke, I sometimes had to walk alongside the bike, otherwise it became a bit scary. The bike had mechanical brakes and these were never very effective, so all in all it was a difficult situation.

A Grocers Bike c 1959

One day a customer rang and wanted a sack of potatoes delivered (these were about 30+lb from memory) and as it was late afternoon, she wanted them for dinner that evening. The manager got the bag of spuds and when we went to load them on the bike we found the tyre was flat and we didn't have any patches to fix the tube. What to do! The solution was to put the bag of potatoes across the handlebars of his own bike, which was more of a slender racing type than the old heavy bike. I tried it out and although we had to adjust the handlebars I felt that I could ride it ok.

 I walked the bike across a very busy Parnell Road just to be safe and then leaned the bike against a wall for balance and mounted at the top of Garfield Street, which was quite steep. (and still is!) Away I went, down past the Police Station and as I started to crest the hill proper, I had a horrible thought. "What if I couldn't stop at the junction at the bottom of the hill where all the JJ Craig sand quarry trucks were continually going up and down." The Nestle' chocolate factory where my Grandmother worked was on the opposite corner and I had a vision of me hitting a truck at speed and crashing into the concrete wall of the factory! (now an apartment block)

Nestle' - now Apartments

I tried to gently turn the bike into a side street off Garfield street called Bath Street, but the weight of the potatoes on the handle bar wouldn't let me turn the bike and the brakes just wouldn't work at all. Panic stricken I tried as hard as I could in the split second before I went flashing past, gaining speed as I went. CRASH! I hit a picket fence on the property on the corner of Bath Street just missing a wooden power pole by inches! I lay on the pavement for a couple of seconds and then the pain in my head and face hit me. Oh Boy, did I feel sick. A man came over from the other side of the road and helped me to my feet and although quite groggy, I found I could walk unaided. I left the damaged bike and the spuds and headed back to the store, where the Manager grabbed me and sat me down on a chair. There was a bit of blood from my nose and one eye started to close, but I felt well enough to walk home, which wasn't very far from the shop. The Manager seemed quite concerned about his bike and the fact that he would have to recover the wreckage and also deliver the spuds (in his own time). I had a couple of days off school and by the end of the week my face was looking quite battered and bruised (enough to get some quality sympathy from my classmates) but the funniest thing of all was the shape of the picket fence clearly imprinted on my face!

x marks crash site

After crashing into the side of a car three weeks later (his fault of course) I decided to retire from grocery bike riding and went to work for another grocer who was my best mates Father. He wouldn’t allow bikes as they were too dangerous around Parnell Rise and side streets, so we used handcarts instead. Much safer and a lot less worry for my family. My mate Malcolm and I had some serious fun for the next year or so delivering groceries, but that is another story!

How Not to get a Driving License!

Vintage MOT Car & Driver

I have been enjoying a column in the NZ Herald about some hilarious stories regarding getting a driving license and how things have changed over the years. Some folk sure had fun getting that wonderful recognition that you could drive in such a manner as to satisfy the Official who was testing you at the time. I am currently reading a book about a young English chap who became a POW in 1940 and remained a prisoner of the Germans for 5 long years. He was a truck driver and was captured trying to get to Dunkirk and he describes getting his license in Sussex in 1938. He said that the Policeman who took him for his test asked him to stop the car, while he got out and went around the back of the car. He climbed back in and asked the young fellow to drive off from a standing halt while they were on a steep hill. They only moved forward a few feet and he asked him to stop, while he got out again and went to the back. He repeated his command and as they drove away, the driver asked the Policeman if here was something wrong with the car or his driving. The Policeman said" No, I just wanted to make sure you hadn't gone backward over my matchbox that I had placed under your rear wheel. You did well!" That sounds like quite a tough test under the circumstances!

I remember when I got my 1st driving license at the age of 15 years. We lived at Mt Wellington a suburb of Auckland close to Otahuhu on a new housing estate. At that time it was like living in a rural area and there were acres and acres of empty paddocks around this new housing area, but we had new roads, a new primary school and a little shopping area. Unfortunately we had a long walk to the top of the road to the Highway to catch a bus into town and as I was working late on a Friday night it was quite a long trek home. I decided I needed a car!

My 36 Morris Sports

Dad had always owned large American cars and in fact during the War he often lent his car to American Marines who went for trips as far away as Frankton and Matamata. ( Apparently they called these places Franktonville and Mata-two-times) and they would bring the car back full of petrol and usually some other gifts, such as nylon stockings. He owned a large 1939 De Soto for many years. One of his NZ Railway Firemen, named Gary, had a 1936 Morris 8 Sports convertible for sale and Dad offered to lend me the money if I wanted it. We went over to Glen Innes where Gary lived and as soon as I saw this little beauty I fell in love with it. Gary had been a panel beater and he had rebuilt the Morris in the style of an MG Sports, with a red canvas convertible roof, Hub caps that covered the original wire wheels and Chrome headlights off a Vauxhall car. It looked fantastic! But I didn't have a license!

 It was agreed that I would get a license within two weeks and we would settle the deal then, after we had paid a deposit. My mate John had a 1936 Ford V8 Saloon and he showed me the ropes and my Brother Denis had a two tone, twin aerials, 1938 Chevy Coupe (with original body by Fisher of Canada) This was a beautiful car and the boot was almost big enough to fit the Morris 8 in! Denis gave me heaps of his time learning to drive this car and we decided I was proficient enough to make a booking for the license.  John offered to drive me down as he wanted to get a motorbike license at the same time, so away we went.

Our 1938 Chev Coupe'

In those days it was the Local Council who supervised and once we arrived at the Council buildings we met a very large MOT Traffic cop who got into the passenger seat. Well, to cut a long story short, as soon as I started off I forgot the parking area was not sealed and as I dropped the clutch and accelerated away, we had a wheel spin that any modern boy racer would be proud of! Man those American cars were powerful! The cop glowered at me, but said nothing and after we drove around some local streets, stopping and starting on command we arrived back at the Council. "You can come back next week after more practice" he said. Needless to say I was crestfallen but resigned to the fact that I would have to wait a bit longer.

36 Ford V8

John sat his test for his bike license and I sat next to him while he did his Oral test. (he had already done his bike test) The Cop asked him "How far away from a fire hydrant must you park?" John looked at me as if I should answer on his behalf. " Six Feet" he said. The Cop said nothing. "Three Feet?" he said, still nothing, "Two feet?" The Cop said " You can come back with your mate when you have sorted the right answer" I didn't feel quite so bad after all!

(Actually later that week Dad and I went and bought the Morris 8 Sports and I drove that car down the following week for the test and passed with flying colours, I didn't mention to anyone that I drove myself down, I will probably get arrested now!)

My love affair with my Morris 8 began and I had many happy miles driving this little beauty. (More on this Later)

I spent every Saturday washing and polishing the car and polishing the red hood with Neatsfoot oil, so that it glistened and I loved driving to the beach in Summer as I could lower the roof and let the wind blow my hair. It was neat fun!

John also received his motorbike license, so between us we were finally organised for any eventuality, or so we thought, but we didn't count on coming unstuck after a trip to the "Ming Rose Restaurant" for a couple of hamburgers and chips, but that's another story!