The wonder of Woolies plus a dash of vision makes for retail heaven
COLUMNIST
BRITAIN’S Best and Worst Shopping Districts were revealed this week and the only Welsh town to make the latter category was Tonypandy.
The list ranking UK retail centres was compiled by property advisers Harper Dennis Hobbs, who judged 1,000 shopping districts on how well the store mix suited local needs. Other criteria included vacancy rates and the numbers of “undesirable” shops, which they defined as encouraging debt or addiction – the likes of betting shops, pawnbrokers, pay-day loan shops and e-cigarette stores.
The list – topped by Cambridge – reflected a big geographical divide. The most vital retail centres are all in a ring around London, apart from the odd exception like north Yorkshire’s picturesque heritage town Harrogate. The shops at the other end of the scale had seen strong declines for “wider macro-economic reasons”.
As a town that has borne the brunt of the devastating economic hardship that has hit the south Wales valleys, Tonypandy certainly fits the profile. But it was still sad to see it languishing in Britain’s Bottom 10 Retail Locations.
Like many struggling High Streets across Wales, Pandy – as the locals call it – is also a victim of poor planning decisions. Councils never seem to see the irony that pedestrianisation of small towns can actually reduce footfall. Likewise bypass roads, as nearby Porth will testify.
And, of course, seismic changes in consumer habits – from the online shopping revolution to out-of-town retail parks – have crushed the whole concept of community shopping.
My heart aches for the economic struggles of Dunraven Street because Tonypandy was my first retail mecca. I lived a mile further up the valley in Llwynypia, where our options were limited to the post office, the betting shop, the newsagent and the small grocery store run by a lovely family who had fled Uganda when Idi Amin expelled the country’s Asian minority in 1972.
So in comparison to Llwynypia’s tiny consumer cluster, Tonypandy was our childhood metropolis. Indeed, I sometimes think I owe my entire career to its most exciting shop because it opened the door to a wonderful world of words.
The Wishing Well was a book and toy shop run by two fabulous ladies called Dora and Enid. It was the stuff of dreams when you were eight. Not only did it stock every conceivable Sindy plus accessories, it had shelves stacked with the best of children’s literature, both classic and contemporary.
My father took me to The Wishing Well most Saturday mornings to buy a book. The journey began with Topsy & Tim and progressed through Enid Blyton, Arthur Ransome, Roald Dahl, CS Lewis, E Nesbit, Ian Serraillier, Noel Streatfield, Alan Garner, Susan Cooper and continued until I could access the adult section of Tonypandy Library just down the road.
Tonypandy also had Thoms. This is where you got your bargains... but didn’t necessarily let on they were from Thoms. People could be a tad snooty about Thoms.
And there was the Bracchi café with the silent waiter and – in those pre-Jamie Oliver days – a plentiful supply of chips ’n’ curry sauce and dandelion and burdock for our alternative school dinners.
Plus Mortlocks, Jean and Mal’s record shop, the Army & Navy store, the Plaza cinema and the sports shop, which also sold our leather school satchels.
But, of course, what really made Tonypandy a thriving Valleys town was the wonder of Woolies. Woolworth’s was its beating heart. In years to come tales of its myriad delights will be passed on to future generations who will marvel at the incredible concept of a multi-purpose shop that people actually walked to.
Yes, imagine, on two feet, not via a 4x4 and three acres of giant out-oftown car park.
It was a place where children could roam free – as long as they could endure the glare of the tabardwearing shop assistants, who assumed they were Fagin’s devil spawn pick ’n’ nicking their way through their sweet counter.
I was one of those children – but not a pick ’n’ nicker. You would never have risked that crime in Tonypandy Woolworths. They had aisle patrollers who made the wardens on Prisoner Cell Block H look like Nanette Newman.
Yet despite their terrifying presence, between the ages of eight and 11 I must have spent almost every dinnertime in the big square store that glowed with retail promise at the foot of the hill to our junior school.
It was an emporium that catered for every possible pleasurable need – confectionery, music, Miners glittery make-up, toys. Plus all the boring stuff your parents might want – lightbulbs, hem webbing, extension leads, Ronco Wool Bobble Removers.
And not forgetting Ladybird