大象传媒

Word that oranges, grapefruit and bananas will be sold at 1:00p.m. ricochets off the ancient cobblestones of Northampton Market Square with the force of a buzz bomb (1944) it reverberates through the canvas covered stalls onto the eardrums of all the Saturday shoppers. Is the message rumour or reality? No one knows, but the prospect of a juicy orange or grapefruit on this hot afternoon is enough to create a queue which we join as it snakes its way among the stalls.
"Queing Up," teaches me life skills of obedience, patience and listening, i.e, as an eight years old, with the whole world to explore only the promise of slowly peeling and tasting a fresh banana keeps me from straying out of the queue. I learn that to jump the queue evokes scowls, harsh words and disgraces the family. Listening to the housewives gossip I'm intrigued to find out that one neighbour has "A bun in the oven," that an American Airman was seen leaving a Council house in the wee small hours and yet another bloke, "Ad bloomin dun imself in with is Home Guard rifle. Poor bugger."
As we wait, Mum keeps an eye on the Saxon, All Saints Church Clock, frets that we'll miss the bus and re-checks the ration books, "Thank God, I brought the green ones," she says. The twins -Mary and Joyce -- under 5yrs old have green ration books which entitle them to more rare goodies than my beige one carrying the I.D. No. RKLL--190-4.
It feels like we've queued for hours when finally the greengrocer, with a decidedly Cockney dialect begins to sing, 1. "Yes, we av no bananas, we av no bananas today." As at a brisk pace he starts to sell, "There'll be One piece of fruit per ration book Madam." followed by "That'll be 1s 6d, very good you brought your own bags. Next customer Please."
Whether by mystery, magic or money our patience is rewarded and we always manage to take home some of the precious citrus fruit. Carefully carrying our bounty we scurry through Drum Lane, pause outside Adam's Bakery on Mercer's Row to inhale the deliciuos aromas, hurry across the Drapery to Boots, which always puzzles me, for it's the Chemist not a boot and shoe shop. Crossing busy Gold Street takes time then we race down Bridge Street to the BUll AND BUTCHER INN, sigh with relief to see Len Edward's cream and green, Paulerspury bound bus, its engine idling in the courtyard. We scramble aboard, find seats and wait as Miss Edie Tew tut, tuts along the aisle to collect our return tickets.
Twenty five minutes later in Alderton, we exit the bus on the Green betwixt church and the pub, then hot foot it home down Alley Lane, singing "Yes, We Av Some Bananas, We Av Some Bananas Today."

1. From song; "Yes We Have No Bananas." :
F Silver
I Cohn ;1923

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