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This Parlour Shop was in Gloucester Place, and was run, at one time, by Mrs. Rogers and Mrs. Taylor.
Photo: Ronald Austin
I know everyone of my age will remember what a Parlour Shop was, but the younger generation probably would not even know what a parlour was—a sitting room, usually at the front of the house.
In the middle of Woodville Road where I grew up was a lovely one owned by Mr. Charlie Morgan. He sold everything from sticks to light the fire to candles and cough mixture, cakes and biscuits. He picked apples from his tree in the back garden and sold them for 2d or 3d a pound. We were lucky if our mum sent us on a message, as we only had to cross the road. The best things he sold were sweets, which he displayed in cardboard boxes in the window—all colours and shapes. We would stand for ages trying to decide which to choose with our ha’pennies clutched in our hands. One day, our neighbour Captain Joe Hunt, gave my brother Peter 2d, which he shared with me. One of the sweets he bought was a big coloured fish covered in sugar. My favourite was an everlasting strip, as when you tried to bite some off, you pulled the strip and it would stretch—hence the name ‘everlasting.’ Once rationing came in the War, the shop was turned back into a Parlour.
In John Street, there was a bakehouse in the back garden run by the three Davies Brothers. Their sister, Sally used to sell the bread and cakes from their Parlour. A loaf was 4 1/2d.
Our school entrance was in Gloucester Place and opposite there, was Mr. Smith, a cobbler (shoe repairer) in his Parlour mending shoes on a three-corner ‘last’, with his window up to half. He would be there, dressed in his leather apron from morning till night.
Down in The Dunns, near the Old Garage, was Mr. Ted Priddy, the Barber in his Parlour. The local men would sit for hours in the evening and while he was cutting, they would be telling stories of things that happened in days gone by. Little boys used to go on Saturday morning, but my Mother liked to hear all these tales, so would take my little brother in the evening.
Annie Hickson (nee Ace) used to cook laverbread in a room at the back of her house and sell it at her front door for a shilling a pound, although she also had a stall in Swansea Market.
These are my memories of just a few of the many such modest ‘front room’ businesses that existed in the bustling little streets of the village.
Anothe view, taken on the same day, of the shop alongside Eric J. Owen's Garage, then Ted Priddy the barber.
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