It is strange how memories are built of small and infrequent events long after day to day happenings have faded into oblivion. Perhaps our memory sees no need to store the mundane daily routine but special events are red letter days which must be remembered in all their glorious detail. The return of Lyons Ice Cream to Gregory’s store in 1946 was just such an event!
The big red freezer chest with ‘Lyons’ emblazoned across the front, together with a sign declaring that Gregory’s store was the official supplier of Lyons Ice Cream, had remained in place beyond the wicket gate throughout the war. This rickety old gate stretched between the ends of the long counters lining both sides of the store. Always kept firmly closed and bolted, that gate provided the only means to move behind the counters or access the living accommodation beyond. How I longed for just a peek inside that dusty red freezer!
Even though I had no memory of the taste of ice-cream, that big red chest freezer fascinated me. I believe it may have been the only freezer in the town. I have no memory of ever seeing another.
The making of ice-cream had been banned during the war years and even when production began again there were strict regulations regarding the ingredients. Cream was not available until the end of rationing. Since our milk was untreated, the cream rose to the top and my mother would skim this off into a small jug to be served over bottled fruit for desert. The remaining milk must have been equivalent to our current 1% or perhaps even ‘Skim Milk’.
Until the demise of our local passenger service in the 1950’s we Wenlock kids travelled by train to and from Coalbrookdale Grammar School. The line from Wellington continued beyond Wenlock through Longville all the way to just outside Craven Arms and children from as far away as Cardington travelled by train to Grammar School in Coalbrookdale.
There must have been about thirty children from Wenlock who caught the 8.30am train and returned at 4pm. From 1946 or 7, every two or three weeks, a frozen food container full of Lyons Ice-cream was shipped to Wenlock in the Guard’s van. Imagine our excitement when the guard hopped off the train at Coalbrookdale station and someone spied the distinctive red container in the Guard’s van!
Gregorys’ Lyons Ice-cream is on board!” was the cry! Glum faces identified those unlucky children who travelled further than Wenlock. The unluckiest kids were those who still had a long cycle ride or walk from Wenlock station. My friend Maureen (who was to achieve fame later in life for completing the Thousand Mile Land’s End to John O Groats walk) still had a three-mile cycle ride to Shirlett. Running home to beg for ice-cream money was impossible for them as it would be sold out before 6pm closing time!
We Wenlock kids tumbled from the train at Wenlock station, waving our passes enthusiastically towards the ticket collector as we raced for home! Our mission was to conjure a threepenny bit out of our parents or be permitted to raid our own piggybank. Our excitement alerted the whole town and very soon a large cohort of children were running towards the station to meet the porter with the important red container loaded on his handcart.
Like the Pied Piper he led a steadily increasing crowd of children down the Station road, under the railway bridge and along Sheinton Street.
The faithful and growing escort chanted quietly but with great enthusiasm;
” I scream, you scream, we all scream for icecream! “
Gregorys store lay opposite the Church and next door to The Stork Hotel. The double front door, flanked by two large bay windows sat above 4 wide stone steps. As far back as I can remember those enormous windows were virtually empty. Occasionally a few loaves of bread would appear for an hour or two, but for the most part it seemed that what little Gregory’s had for sale was sold long before there was time to put it in the window.
Always known as Gregory’s, I never remember seeing Mr Gregory. He was the baker and seemed to prefer remaining behind the scenes. His wife was assisted by Gertie Dawes. When I was small, I always thought they were sisters! Both were elderly and seemed to have trouble walking. Wearing voluminous garments and matching grey fuzzy hair they generally shuffled about in carpet slippers. I have no memory of ever seeing either Mr. or Mrs. Gregory or Gertie about the town or at any social event.
To us kids Gertie was the Boss and the one who kept us all in line. Mrs Gregory was smaller and more gentle. Gertie yelled at us and we listened! Her gentler companion would beg us to ‘shush please’.
Gregory’s main business seemed to be the Bakery. Their bread was special in that they used very little salt. Every loaf was usually spoken for before it came out of the oven. I imagine the store had been a larger portion of the business before the days of rationing.
In my memory, the counters and shelves were always almost bare. A desultory selection of half full sweet jars and the odd loaf of bread were scattered, seemingly at random, along the shelves. A fat red sausage about four inches in diameter and up to a foot long generally sat on the bacon slicer, occasionally there was a pan of faggots in gravy on the counter. Sometimes I would be sent with a cooking bowl to buy four faggots and gravy for our supper. Faggots are a mix of pork liver,heart and caul mixed with bread crumbsand herbs and cooked in a rich brown gravy. Gregorys’ faggot balls were about two inches in diameter. They were extremely tasty when reheated with lots of gravy and served with toast.
The double front door had large frosted panes and both doors were ceremoniously opened so that the porter could carry the ice-cream container beyond the wicket gate and set it on the large red freezer. Immediately he left, Gertie locked the doors!
Now began the seemingly endless wait for the ladies to check their delivery and move everything into the big red freezer. We were some of the lucky children who lived very close by, and, as the crowd grew we jealously guarded our place on the steps! Soon half the kids in town were scrabbling around on the stone steps and the pavement beyond.
Eventually, Gertie unlocked just one side of the door and announced she was ready and we better behave ourselves if we wanted serving! The half door provided only a narrow entry and even we children had to enter single file. Once inside we formed an orderly line against the rarely used right counter.
As we dutifully waited, clutching our treasured threepenny bits, we inched forward until at last we could hand our money to Mrs. Gregory and receive our prize from Gertie! Our treasured reward would likely be rejected, perhaps even ridiculed by children today!
Each ice-cream came individually wrapped. It consisted of a circle of ice-cream about 4 cm in diameter and three cm deep. A band of waxy thick paper which surrounded the sides was removed by Gertie and dropped in the waste bin as she balanced our prized purchase in a specially designed cone. The ice-cream sat firmly inside the cone and was held in place by intruding cone flanges. The cone itself was much larger than that little circle of ice-cream and was designed so that the ice-cream was almost impossible to dislodge. It was quite a thick wafer crust and tasted almost better and lasted longer than the ice-cream itself, a fact which did not escape our notice!
The ice-cream taste resembled rather poor-quality stale frozen custard, the texture had more similarity with sweetened cardboard than any ice-cream available today.
Such details were of little interest to us at the time. With either very distant or possibly no previous memories for comparison, actually having an ice-cream in our fists was pure delight. Such an epoch-making event was certainly not to be diminished by any comment or criticism of either taste, size or quality. The joy of possession reigned supreme.
The cones were quickly sold, and the chest shut until 5.30pm. when wafers went on sale to adults only. For this purpose, anyone who was working full-time was deemed to be an adult. Since School leaving age at that time was fourteen many teenagers could buy wafers too. Wafers cost sixpence!
I think that these wafers must also have been delivered unwrapped and separated by the waxy thick paper. In my memory, Gertie always handed them over already placed between two wafers. They were quite small, about 8 ½ cm by 4 ½ cm and perhaps a centimetre thick and definitely far inferior to our wonderful cones!
I was quite sure that, for once in our life, we kids had certainly had the better deal!