February 2021

62
Wanstead Village Directory
deep roots
Wanstead resident Jean Medcalf has published her first poetry book at
the age of 89. To Everything There is a Season is a collection of lyrical,
spiritual poems about nature. In the fourth of a series of articles, Jean
introduces her poem entitled February, which prompts her memories
of Nightingale Lane in the 1960s. Background artwork of the old
Gravatt’s shop window by Sally Medcalf
February was the
month I gave birth
to my second child
– having just moved
into our new home
in Wanstead weeks
earlier in December
1960! Shopping with
a pram and a toddler
was tiring, so it was
very useful to have
small shops nearby on
Nightingale Lane.
There was a little grocers
run by Arthur and Kath
Chumbley, who sold
cheese the old-fashioned
way – cut with a cheese
wire and weighed on
the scales – and ham
and bacon sliced on a
machine. There was Gilbert’s, the greengrocers
run by Mr George Gilbert, who used to sit
outside on a chair and chat to passers-by. If
you had a surplus of apples, pears or plums
from your garden, he would buy them from
you.
There was also Carver’s the butcher and a
fish-and-chip shop called Capital Fish Bar,
which was so popular they often ran out of
fish! In the mid-70s, it was called Michael’s and
then it became the first Chinese takeaway
Carver’s circa 1950s.
Photo courtesy of
Kevin Palmer, whose grandfather Charles
Reddy Palmer (right) worked at the butcher
shop on Nightingale Lane
we had ever seen, which
was quite exciting. We
even had a small hair
salon near the Duke of
Edinburgh pub.
The local children used
to congregate around
Ann’s, the sweet shop,
with its shelves of tall
glass jars of gobstoppers,
sherbet lemons, aniseed
twists and rhubarb
and custards, all about
sixpence a quarter. On
the wooden counter
were the cheap sweets:
flying saucers, pink
shrimps, black jacks and
fruit salad chews at four
for a penny. She also
sold blocks of ice cream
– the only choice back then was Neapolitan
or raspberry ripple.
The other favourite was Gravatt’s, which
repaired typewriters and sold toys, run by
Mrs Long, a kindly, grey-haired lady in a
navy overall. It was rather dark inside as the
window was completely crammed with toys:
catapults, jigsaws, fuzzy felt, pea shooters,
cap-guns, little dolls, puzzles and metal
paintboxes for half a crown – several weeks’
worth of pocket money!
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