Career Change Afoot...my memoirs..

Part of my memoirs about my working life

Career Change Afoot

Ten years into our marriage having lived in and worked on our bungalow and getting it the way we wanted it my husband suddenly sprung a surprise on me.

“I want to buy that shop round the corner,” he announced.

I was taken aback because the shop he was referring to was a dilapidated shop just around the corner from our bungalow and had been empty for many years. The previous shop owner, was a blind, deaf lady who ran the shop with her sister. We heard tales of the owner selling bread to locals from her bed as she became frail and infirm but she didn’t want to let her customers down. Once the owner was taken to hospital to be cared for her in her final years, the property was boarded up. I only ever remember it in this state when we moved into the area all those years before. If I happened to be walking home late in the evening alone I would cross over the road rather than walk past the premises because it was so eerie it gave me the creeps and I thought it might be haunted.

The owner eventually died intestate leaving the property unoccupied for seven years apart from occasional squatters and local youths setting fires in rooms and breaking windows making it inhabitable. I used to tell my two eldest boys not to play in there because it was dangerous, confirmed by the fact that when they did snuck in there they came back with bottles of prescription tablets and souvenirs of abandoned personal property. I angst about moving from our comfortable home which we'd built together from a very dodgy financial beginning to then being in a position to be able take the children abroad on holiday each year and not short of anything.

Prospecting

To be fair to my husband, I suggested I’d go and view the property to prospect the possibility of it being worth investing time and money in. I could then at least say I’d considered the idea, but no thanks with three very young children in tow this would be a step too far. I can recall looking around the rooms, viewing the damage from various trespassers and vagrants but I could see beyond the chaos. I noted the red stock brick building, the huge rooms with high ceilings. The third of an acre of land to the rear would give ample garden space and adventure for my three growing boys to play in.  I surprised myself instantly by being able to visualise the business potential of the property in its prime location. It had been a thriving business in the past and could be again.

This was at a time when supermarkets were few and far between and only opened until 5.30 – 6.00pm Monday to Saturday and not open on Sundays. The roundabout adjacent to the premises was a main one servicing four major towns in the North West. The business side of my brain could envisage the impact and the possible viability of running this ‘project’ and I couldn’t get beyond those thoughts. I’d have to go with what my head and my heart were telling me and have faith it would work out somehow!  I weighed up the pros and cons again and again and decided that although I had some misgivings I’d support my husband in this project. I’d take the risk that it would turn out alright. I’m sure my twenty-eight year old optimistic brain also played its part in my decision-making.

“I’ll help you with the project and work for five years to get the business up and running, but I still want to go back to nursing and do my training,” I stressed on my husband’s eagerness for me give him the answer he was looking for.

I knew this was a defining moment in my life but I was still prepared to take that risk. Given my young age and  a born optimist I felt sure my instincts were right. I agreed to help my husband getting the premises up and running but my future plans still lay in that elusive nurse training. That was the deal, I would put everything into making the business a success but then it would be up to my husband to run the establishment.

Deal done and before stick became lift, our bungalow was sold within a month and at the asking price. We bought the shop premises outright with no savings to actually transform the building into a habitable home and business premises. There were two large bedrooms, a bathroom and separate toilet, a downstairs room at the rear of the shop which would be our living room and the shop at the front of the building and an outrigger posing as a kitchen.

The gas, electric and water had obviously been disconnected many years previous when the owner vacated the building but given my husband was a gas fitter/plumber, I didn’t envisage any problems on this score.

My eldest two boys were really thrilled at the prospect of living in the property, partly because of the land for them to play in with a train line at the bottom of the garden but they also were excited at the prospect of our opening a shop.

The time waiting for our solicitor to give us the o.k. to start working on the property seemed interminable and we were eager to get on with the job in hand. We’d put in an offer for the property in April 1976, one of the hottest, memorable summers in many years when the sun shone all day long. We were advised by our solicitor not to do anything until contracts were exchanged. We waited impatiently throughout that summer, itching to get some work done, but it was the day the rains came on 4^th September before contracts were exchanged and we could move in and get on with the mammoth task in front of us.

My husband continued working full-time job and I remained in my post at the hospital to help with the finances but money became very strained because of the cost of the move. Risks stacked against us going under were immense. Echoes of our financial past came to haunt me. I wondered just what had we done. We couldn’t get a loan to renovate the property because banks gave us a wide berth and refused to help us which on reflection is hardly surprising. The profit from the sale of our home bought the property outright but  left us with just enough cash in hand to keep buoyant. I was so young with three children aged nine, eight and two-and-a-half years of age in tow. We moved from our bungalow which was double-glazed, centrally-heated and fully-carpeted into a dilapidated shop with a flat above. Everyone including our families must have thought we’d lost our marbles – perhaps we had!

 One Day At a Time

Before moving in day I used to put my youngest son, Graham to bed for his afternoon nap whilst his brothers were at school and my neighbour would mind him. I’d go across to the shop and fill skips of decaying rubbish in the pouring rain. I’d climb up on to the outrigger and empty all the detritus between the missing roof slates. I got soaking wet but I kept up the mantra in my head ‘If I only do one thing it will be step nearer our goal to make the building habitable’. That mantra still remains with me today when I’m faced with difficult situations or if I feel I may get over-whelmed with too much to do and not enough time in which to do it. This has stood me in good stead throughout my busy working years.

While I was at work one weekend,  my husband took the two eldest boys to help to clear the rubbish out of the shop. Colin, my eldest, leant on one of the window frames where the glass had been smashed and gashed his forearm close to the main artery requiring four stitches. My ward sister asked me to report to Accident and Emergency as my son had just been brought in to casualty. I flew down the stair two at a time with my mind boggling and wondering which of my sons had been injured. How and why were they there – is it life-threatening? Oh dear, was my cry, is this a sign of things to come?