The Bikers of Mumbles shops
by Woodrow Honey
[Probably the W Honey pictured here with his pals]
When I was a schoolboy in Mumbles, aged 10, I became a ‘lather-boy’ for Ron Twomey, in his Barber shop at the corner of Queen’s Road and Oakland Road, working Friday night and Saturday morning. When I left school in 1933, at the age of 13, I became a full-time worker, a ‘biker’. Many young boys like me in the early Thirties were errand boys for the numerous grocery and bakery shops in Mumbles– we were ‘The Bikers of Mumbles’.
The hours were long, 9.00 am to 8.00 pm, and the work was hard. I worked for Frizzell’s on the corner of Woodville Road and Queens Road– the premises now occupied by Mrs Mac’s Coffee & Wool Shop (Ed: now The Junction). In the shed at the back of the premises, I weighed out all the sugar and flour, and delivered them in brown paper bags to the customers in the surrounding streets.
Neton Road Shops, c1920
I also worked as an errand boy for Miss Morris (where Lloyd’s Bank now stands, at the bottom of Newton Road) using a very heavy, awkward bike. It had a small front wheel supporting the grocery basket and a much larger rear-wheel – a sort of penny-farthing in reverse!
Like Harry Mathias (see Donkeys, Geese and Broken Eggs: Newton between the Wars ),
I had an accident with that bike. Pushing it up Newton Road (to what is now Covelli’s) I tipped over, losing control of the bike and smashing a bag of eggs. Unlike Harry, I was not sacked – because Miss Morris’s ‘friend,’ Mr Easterbrook came to my aid and helped clear the mess.
I also worked as a biker for Ivor David, the ironmonger. I had to cycle to the Strand in Swansea for copper plates, bringing them back to Mumbles, along the Oystermouth Road. It was very hard work, especially when there were strong winds blowing off the sea.
Woodville Road, 1910
All the bikers delivering to Langland and Caswell used to stop for a breather at the bottom of the hill, at Khandalla Terrace. We then pushed our bikes up to Langland Corner and stopped again for another breather. Steering those bikes uphill, with baskets full of groceries, was very tiring, physically. For this hard work, and the long hours, most of us were paid five shillings per week.
But enough was enough. In 1937, I became a Fireman on the railways at Landore, a very different form of transport and had nothing more to do with bikes or bikers…