Broomhill Reminiscence Group (Mrs Moss)
My grannie keepit a shoppie at Hanover Street. It wis a wee general shoppie, wi wee windaes. She selt aathing, sweeties, coal, jist aathing. Fin fowk bocht things that hid tae be wyed, she pit them ontae metal scales. Ma granny hid wechts, ozs, lbs, that she pit on the scales tae balance them. If ye stretched yer fingers oot tae takk a sweetie frae the shoppie she'd gie ye a wee tap on the back o the haun...like silk, her skin wis, saft an fite an shiny.
Amangst ither things granny selt baggies o coal an kinnlin. There wis a lot o poverty roon Hanover Street, sae folk micht jist buy a bag o coal big enough tae feed ae nicht's fire.She selt lucky tatties, tee...they were a kind o sweetie. Ye'd tae watch an nae swallae a haepenny , there wis ay a haepenny in the middle o the lucky tattie sweeties.Roon the back o Hanover Street there wis tenements. Fin I wis five years auld, aroon 1915, I used tae watch the wifies staunin ootside the tenements newsin tae een anither. Their aprons war bonnie an fite, pure fite!
She sang aa the auld tunes, ma grannie, she'd a sweet little voice, a busy wifie, niver still ay deein something. She opened the shoppie door at 7.30 in the mornin, an didna close it till 10 at nicht. Whyles, she took a wee rest in the efterneen, fin ma aunty watched the shop.Fin ye opened the door a wee bell gied tring. Ma granny niver hid tae send for the bobby ower the heids o stuff being stolen. Na, she'd hae gien ye a slap if ye wis coorse. Sae wid the bobby! Aabody kent the bobbies, an aa the bairns war feart o them, nae like nooadays, bairns arena feart o onything!
She bedd in a room ben the hoose frae the shoppie. I can see her yet, sittin in her cheer. She'd a bonnie face ma granny, a fine smilie face, an she ay wore black, a black silk satin blouse an a lang black skirt, an buttoned buits. Her hair wis lang, preened up roon her heid and the only jewellery iver she wore wis a string o black jet beads. She niver wore perfume. I'd hae kent if she did, fur I wis niver ooto her airms fin I wis a littlin, I wis ay gettiun bosies frae her. She wis a little craitur, fite heidit, an affa good tae me.