MARK Ashworth and his sister, Marie, are playing in the ginnel and I’m curious to know what’s happening.
“What’re you playing?”
“Shop’,” says Marie. “We’re playing ‘Shop’ and we’re going to make ourselves rich.”
Their old toys are placed on a piece of red cloth, on the floor. I see some damaged matchbox cars, a silver gun, a cowboy hat, a soldier’s plastic helmet, an old pair of roller skates, a doll and a battered box of wax crayons.
“I need some crayons,” I say. “How much?”
“A penny,” replies Marie. “Everything’s a penny. We call our shop, erm, Pennyland.”
“Pennyland?” I repeat, smiling. Wouldn’t ‘Bottom Shop’ sound better?” But I’m ignored.
I nip home to get some money. Then, before I make my way back to the ginnel, I pick up a model spitfire (with broken wing) and an old balaclava, to sell at Pennyland.
By now, a crowd of kids have gathered with their toys and pocket money. John Sugden has donated a slightly damaged hardboard castle with drawbridge, and his sister, Ann, has given us her plastic till that rings when the drawer opens. When the till is full of pennies, Dawn and Glen go up to the ‘Top Shop’ to change copper into silver. By the time they return, the crowd is even larger and the till is, once again, overflowing. I’m the oldest one in the group and announce: “I’ve a great idea – let’s charge more for the better toys.”
“We’ll need to change our name from Pennyland,” complains Marie.
Seven-year-old, John, regrets letting his castle go so he buys it back along with my old balaclava, for four old pence.
Everyone’s really excited and we realise this is somehow different to just kids at play.
This is real business. Big business.
Soon, Keith Wrend approaches, curious to know what’s happening. He’s older than the rest of us and announces: “My old bike is worth five bob and my cricket bat should fetch a couple of bob more.”
“I’ll gi’ thi five bob for ‘em both,” I shout, prepared to blow-in all my birthday money. After raiding my moneybox, Ann’s plastic till is full of silver.
Later, Keith’s mam approaches, curious to know what’s happening.
“I’m thinking,” says, Mrs Wrend. “I could get the tables out onto the forecourt of the Longcar Inn, and you can have a jumble sale.
“If you all go knocking on doors asking for old clothes and things, we can make a small fortune for a good cause.”
By now Mrs Wrend is making a lot of the decisions but everyone feels involved and important. At the end of the afternoon our jumble sale, outside the Longcar Inn, is an amazing success - accumulating just a shilling shy of five pounds.
As Mrs Wrend adds a bob to the coffers from her own purse, she informs us: “That’s as much as women workers earn in a week at the pop factory.”
On the following Tuesday, Keith’s mother gets a message that the Mayor of Barnsley has invited us all to celebrate in his parlour at the Town Hall.
Everyone turns up spick and span like the Little Rascals in the films, and the Mayor lets us try on his tricorn hat and chain of office. The Chronicle photographer takes snaps as we present a five pound note to a lady from the Cancer Research charity.
Mrs Wrend says none of this is down to her – the children deserve all the credit.
The whole experience is the most exciting thing we’ve ever done in our lives. It gives us tremendous confidence because we know WE started the project and helped make it grow.
This is a true story (apart from the creative dialogue) and occurred 62 years ago, I’ve related it because I’m convinced that young people were vastly underestimated then and still are today.
Another example: Paul McCartney and George Harrison spent many years as pupils at the Liverpool Institute on Merseyside.
During that time, none of the teachers noticed a hint of musical talent in either boy. Just imagine how that must feel for those erstwhile teachers – half the Beatles were in your class and you didn’t notice their talent!
If kids of any age are reading this column, I’d say, it’s never too late to discover what you’re good at and what you enjoy doing: Nelson Mandela didn’t become President of South Africa until he was 75.
