Saturday Mornings

On Saturday morning the street was usually heaving with a steady flow of assorted locals wending their meandering way up and down each pavement.  A polite hallo or a brief stop to gossip with friends or neighbours, one half of the motley throng always seemed to know the other half as they briefly exchanged the time of day. The sun always shone on a Saturday morning in Evesham Street, the birds always sang and shoplifting was unknown. The sparse traffic either headed for the traffic lights, or prepared for the long grind up Front Hill, past the Gospel Hall heading for the Plough and Harrow and Mount Pleasant, and then on to who knows where. People on push bikes, stood them against the pavement without fear of them being stolen or knocked over. If they were, the nearest person would think nothing of propping them back up with a pedal on the kerbstone. Men touched their caps out of habit when passing a person of the opposite sex.

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