H&J Smith source of fond recollections

MY sister left school in the mid1960s and started work at H&J Smith , in the children’s department.

It was amazing to watch the salesperson take your money, place it in a little cylinder and send it whooshing up through pipes, and miraculously return minutes later with your change.

Memories abound. Whilst my children and I were shopping in the lingerie department many years ago, my young son (about 8) held up a very large pair of what could only be described as bloomers, and said in a none too quiet voice, these would fit a ‘‘certain lady’’ on my netball team. My younger son (about 3) let go of my hand and was screaming on his hands and knees halfway up the escalator with staff rushing to turn it off.

Annual visits to Eggo the Easter chook, and every December each child’s photo up to the age of 10, taken with Santa.

Buying and paying for a new washing machine from the whiteware department upstairs, it being not only delivered, but installed by the salesman. After discovering he had installed the wrong, more expensive model, we were told ‘‘not to worry, his mistake, our gain’’.

Sadly this lovely store, which could tell many a story, having seen generations of families pass through its doors, is soon to be no more

H&J Smith, you will be sadly missed. Thank you for all your years of serving the people of the South.

Helen Hotton

Invercargill

Where to start?

I WOULD like to refute Colin Rawle’s diatribe on hate speech (ODT 16.5.23) and his castigating of Joe Bennett’s column (which I love every week). Trouble is I don’t know where to start. In Mr Rawle’s world may appear allencompassing knowledge, proliferating and grandiose. I suspect however it is much smaller than that, much like the number of people who would agree with him.

Graham Bulman

Roslyn