Bedford Market in Wartime

Bedford Market in Wartime by Alan Locke who was evacuated to Bedford with the Owen School from Islington, North London.

“The traditional town markets are now almost extinct but Bedford’s provided many diversions each Saturday when the normal empty expanse of asphalt surrounding St.Paul’s Church on two sides would be covered in rickety stalls with tarpaulin sheets for roofing. Some were regulars — fruit and vegetable stalls for instance, while others could be hired on the day.

Of course the fruit and veg was all locally grown and there was nothing imported. All the refrigerated cargo ships were carrying meat from South America and not bananas or oranges. There were no clothing stalls, since clothing was rationed and you accumulated your clothing coupons for large items like coats and suits. I remember that clothes were rationed quite suddenly in 1941 (?) and since there was a need to issue coupons but none were printed, you had to use the margarine coupons in your Ration Books that year! Men’s ties and all hats were off ration. This might have led to the profusion and variety of hats worn by ladies in the war. But then most women felt undressed without a hat — as contemporary photographs show.

But back to the market — a frequent visitor was ‘Waxey’, a scruffy 50 year old with his own ’Waxey’s Cement’ which would stick anything to anything, permanently. It came in brownish sticks looking like sealing wax and had similarly to be melted with a match and dripped or rubbed on to each surface to be stuck. He rounded off his demonstration by making a hammer from a stock of firewood with a half pint milk bottle as the head. It was ready to use within two minutes and he would bang a 4 inch nail into a piece of wood with it. Sixpence a stick and you’ll be back for more’ was his boast.

Once a year came a tall, long-haired (that was unusual!) blue-eyed character in a long mackintosh and broad brimmed hat who carried a selection of small parcels wrapped in brown paper (was there any other colour?) and string. ‘I am the Nottingham Mystery Man’ he announced and he would invite people to spend five shillings on one of his parcels. ‘It could be a useful household item — it could be a diamond ring — or a gentleman’s wrist watch’ he would boast. But he did insist that you took it away and opened it up elsewhere than at the stall — and people did! I mentioned all this to my mother in London who said, ‘Oh, I know him — he used to be at the Caledonian market’. It seemed that he travelled the country doing this. Well, you wouldn’t want to overstay your welcome, would you?

Most of these ‘out of town’ characters never set up their stalls until 11.30 to 12 noon, so this would be because they travelled up from London or down from Nottingham, etc. by train to Midland Road Station. That took much longer than today since they travelled on steam trains stopping at many stations.

… and then there was ‘Captain Karl’ and his Corn Cure. Captain Karl was dark haired with heavy frames spectacles and he had a suitcase containing his remedy in small bottles. He wore a dark suit and carried a small monkey on his shoulder secured by a wrist chain. This ensured an interested crowd and helped counterbalance the presence, sitting on his stall of a vagrant, hired for the day from a doss house which I believe operated in the Kimbolton Road area near St.Peter’s Hospital with his boots and socks off exposing his feet generously covered in corns, callouses and hard skin ready for Captain Karl’s Corn Cure. ‘I could now cut off one of his toes and he would never know it!’ boasted Captain Karl before deftly paring some of the victims toe, enabling him, we assume, to tramp the highway painlessly at the end of the day. Captain Karl didn’t like me! During the course of his spiel he challenged his audience ‘What is an egg but an unborn chicken?’ and I replied ‘it could be an unborn duck’ whereupon he stuffed the monkey inside his jacket and walked round the stall looking very menacing and ordering me to go away from his stall and not come back. Strange man!

Then there was a black chap selling snake oil. Well, he wasn’t totally black — he looked rather like Ray Ellington. ‘Anybody here take Doctor Collis Browne’s Chlorodyne?’ he asked. Chlorodyne was a product on sale in chemists with claims as to cure or remedy a variety of bronchial ailments including asthma, etc. He had his own answer at half a crown a bottle. ‘Taste that then sir!’ he challenged someone who owned up and who agreed that it did taste the same. ‘Right,’ said Mr. Remedy ‘I take this every day and I am over forty’ at this point he thumped his chest hard with his clenched fist ‘how many of you can do that?’ Frankly, this was the last thing that any of his audience would have dreamed of doing but it seemed that he had made some sort of point and the half crowns came rolling in.

When you stroll around today’s markets — where you can find them — they all sell sweatshirts, jeans and trainers, petfood, Chinese hand tools and fruit and veg but where have all the characters gone?

There was a second market on a Saturday of course but this one lasted only as long as the stock of second hand bicycles lasted. It was held in the Cattle Market reached by going up Horne Lane behind St.Paul’s Church. It started about 9.30am and an array of awful machinery was put up for auction. Now bikes were in short supply especially new bikes. A standard 26” wheel Hercules Roadster with roller brakes (rod operated) was £4 19s 6d new in 1939 but the government saw that sufficient materials were available for spare parts, tyres and inner tubes. But at this market I saw bikes that were hardly roadworthy going for five to 10 shillings each!”

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