We all love a bargain and in my case that love affair began during the war as I accompanied my Mother shopping. There was not much in the shops but there were open air markets and I remember the Greengrocers during icy Decembers. Men and women whose ruddy faces shone through the cold. They wore flat caps and their hands were covered with hand-knitted gloves with the finger ends missing, their necks had wrap-around scarves and the noses of many glistened from the biting winds which swept across the flat lands of Lincolnshire from the frozen plains of Russia.
The stalls on Mansfield market were wooden trestle tables and a few had striped canvas covers, but nearly all vendors could be heard cheerily bawling out their sales pitch to attract the muffled shoppers on the hunt for a bargain.
Most people seemed to have favourite stalls and so became regular customers, but this was not the case with Mother. With her husband away in Africa and then Italy she was relentless in pursuit of a bargain. Money was tight for she worked during the day and during the evening took in what was called in those days ‘Invisible Mending.’ This involved taking hosiery and garments that had machine knitting faults and repairing them so that they were, to all intents and purposes new and could be sold as such. I remember being told in later years that she was one of the best invisible menders in the district and factories were pleased to have her on their books. I guess they too knew a bargain when they saw it.
We all remember when we have struck a bargain and so I hope readers will not mind my relating my latest tale. A few weeks ago we went into Malvern and as we wandered around I spotted a brand new Brooks Taverner jacket in an antique shop. The pockets were still sewn up and the original labels intact. At £33 it was a bargain and so I casually offered the dealer £26. This was rejected but we shook hands at £29 cash.
Heading back to the Abbey hotel for coffee we passed Brays department store and to our astonishment saw the very same jacket in the window at £218. What a bargain! I could hardly wait to ‘phone a friend,’ and tell him the news.
Talking of friends, reminds me that one told me about a damp, very foggy December night on the Yorkshire moors. A commercial traveller was on his way home for Christmas. He was tired and thinking about a short rest at a pub a few miles ahead. Suddenly his engine stopped and all the electrics died. With no landmarks to guide him he felt lost, lonely and a little frightened. He got out into the drizzle and heard a voice suddenly say, “Under the glove box, replace the first fuse on the left.” Without thinking he did so. The car started and he looked around to thank his helper but appeared alone except for a hazy image of a white horse behind a stone wall.
Deeply puzzled he continued to the pub and told his astonishing tale. To his surprise the landlord replied, “Thou wert lucky, as there’s usually a black horse in that field and he knows nowt abaht cars.”
Just like the lucky traveller, I shared my joyful news and perceptive readers will not be surprised to hear that my joy came not from the £189 saved against the Bray’s price but from the £4 saved on the jacket’s ticketed price in the antique shop. The psychology of this is fascinating, and may go to show that we get our satisfactions and pleasures when we ourselves take an active role in the transaction.
Some may wonder what God got out of Christmas, but for the rest of us it must be the bargain of a lifetime.
View from the Pew 