You entered the grocery shop through a wooden door with glass panels at the top, it was hard to believe that the glass gave any light, for it was covered with adhesive posters and cards hung on strings, advertising all manner of products. As you placed your hand on the door and lifted the catch, a tiny bell rang and continued to do so until the door was quite still.

The first impression on entering was a distinct aroma, a mixture of cheeses, hams, and firelighters which was not as unpleasant as it seems. To me it was Grandmas.

My Grandparents, Mr and Mrs Copleston bought Liverpool House in 1911. They lived above and at the back of the two shops and worked hard. Their only holiday was a trip to Rhyl on a Bank Holiday Monday.

The quantity of stock was amazing as you glanced around the shop. In one corner, tins of biscuits with glass lids. The biscuits were served out of these which resulted in lots of broken ones. Granddad used to give these to customers who had lots of children or maybe women whose husbands were out of work. On the floor, sacks of potatoes rubbed up against dog biscuits and bundles of wood. Potatoes were the only vegetable - for any other fruit and vegetables you went to the greengrocers. On the counter on the right sat a very regal looking bacon slicer, the big red wheel and handle polished until you could see your face in it.

On the rest of the counter stood large, round cheeses, butter, shanks of roast ham, all manner of cooked meats; tongue, beef and what I thought looked most unappetising, brawn. This was the provisions counter.

On the other side flanked by the customary tall wooden chair for customers to sit on while they gave their orders and gossip to Grandma was a thick, wide, well worn wooden counter, telling the tale of the many coins that had passed over it and the countless words of sympathy and advice, as elbows rubbed its surface.

Surprisingly enough, although Grandma could have started a fair rumpus with all she knew, she was full of integrity, she listened hard, advised, sold her goods and then kept quiet about it all. Both ends of this counter were well balanced displays of all sorts of groceries, beans, peas, dried fruit and sugar, packed into the familiar blue or red bags that my Granddad had lovingly and very precisely weighed the night before.

The sweet and cake shop on the other side of the long passage from the front door was managed by my aunt, although Grandma played a big part in that shop too. Behind one counter were large jars of sweets, names like Barker & Dobson and Taverner and Rutledge come to mind as makes of such varieties as aniseed balls, pear drops, pontefract cakes, sugared almonds and many more. Everything a small child with a warm penny could wish for.

These were weighed on shiny brass scales and two ounces were tipped into three corned bags, twisted top corners, then eagerly paid for with one penny. Grandma made her own toffee, poured it into square shallow trays. When it was hard she broke it into pieces with her own special toffee hammer, which I still have in my possession. My sister and I were allowed to eat all the remaining bits of toffee left in the tray. My favourite was the one with the yellow middle which smelled of bananas.

On New Year's Day little bags of sweets which had been prepared from the remaining pieces from the bottoms of jars and maybe a few damaged chocolates, were given to local children. These were called Calennig which, in Welsh, means gifts given at New Year.

One other important occupant of Liverpool House was the resident cat. It goes without saying that mice were prevalent in such establishments. It also meant that she presented Grandma with a fairly regular litter of kittens. Grandma provided a woolly lined drawer at the side of the fireplace for births. I was allowed to nurse the little bundles until their eyes opened by which time they could be taken from their mother and given to waiting customers.

The parlour was upstairs at the front of the house. I could go up there and do anything I liked. My favourite pastime was playing the piano. Most homes had the obligatory piano, it was almost as important as table and chairs but, for some reason, we didn't have one at home. I played Grandma's piano continually, loudly and badly, never getting any further than Chopsticks, whatever that was, and God Save The King, and only that with one finger.

During the war it was natural that food was a little easier to come by at the shop than at home. Therefore we had many a Christmas dinner at our Grandparents. It was always a goose with all the trimmings, so apart from going home with a full tummy, we were presented with a jam jar of goose grease. This was vigorously rubbed on our backs and chests at the first sign of a cold, pretty revolting but it apparently worked.

One of the out buildings housed the bags of dry goods, large bags of flour, sugar and lentils etc. The closely woven bags were wonderful during the war when coupons were needed for clothing and household linen. Unpicked, washed and bleached they made excellent tablecloths and pillow cases. I am not ashamed to admit that I could find a couple of the pillow cases in my linen cupboard today 65 years on. Is that thrifty or just sentimentality?

Grandad and Grandma retired from business in 1948 but continued to live on the premises until the '50s. Considering that they had worked hard all their lives, lived through two world wars and their medication consisted of not much more than goose grease and probably syrup of figs, they lived to the ages of 83 and 86.

Story and photographs by Joan M Hough, February 2006