I see Chasewaterstuff has been rambling around the Brownhills of his youth again. This fine recollection should not to be missed by lovers of local history. The comments are good, too – I believe the name of the shellac-like stuff Gordon Roberts slicked onto his punters was Trugel. Anyone remember the way he used to stop cutting hair (often mid-job) at 11:00am on the dot, and drink his tea from a clear pyrex cup and saucer? The disembodied hand that used to place the cup on the worktop from the interior door? The overcoat and cap always hung on the same peg on that very door? The fact that all the chairs were matching, apart from the two on the very end? The old, ornate brass till marked in LSD? The glass cabinets full of razorblades, Barlon combs, Pomade and Durex? The way he used to crane to watch people passing by looking in the mirror?
Another one worth pointing out is that behind the town hall, at the bottom of the Black Path (where the author talks about the ‘bank’) – that was the morgue on the right, wasn’t it? Anyone remember sheltering from the rain in the huge old bandstand?
All in all, another cracking post from the railway enthusiast…
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Brought back even mroe memories Bob, your description of the Barbers and i can still visualise those cabinets and seating area as though it was yesterday but it was over 40 years ago.
In those days I went, as a boy, to a barbers in Caldmore [think it might have been called Sanders] and he used the very same stuff that set your hair like concrete – it was a translucent duck egg blue and the propietor used to bottle it and label it ‘Splodge’ selling it to his customers and other local barbers