Column 8
Mickey Pragnell of Kiama is definitely one with memories of a "half a half-married" (C8). "I also remember Mr Lucas delivering door-to-door at Seven Hills, with his covered basket; running out to his van some mornings for an extra loaf and gnawing the warm corners off before bringing it inside, or other days being dispatched with the solemn message, 'None today, thank you.' Ah, memories."
And yet more bread terminology, again from Kiama. Scott Illingworth says: "As a child my uncle was Frank Stuckey of legendary bakers Stuckey Bros Camden and our child rivalry on visits there was to eat the flywalk, the wonderful textured face of the loaf broken in half. We got it well before the flies could!"
Not one for planned obsolescence, Kathryn Forward of New Haven writes: "On Monday, we celebrated my partner's 72nd birthday and he's in good working order. Sharing a milestone is the National Panasonic radio he received from an aunt on his 12th birthday, still in excellent working order at the age of 60, picking up both AM and short-wave. Can any correspondents claim a device of such venerable age?"
"So Belinda Pavey is the Minister for Roads?" (C8), notes Tim Slack-Smith of Castle Hill. "I'd like to meter."
The last word on broken biscuits (C8) goes to John Flanagan of Mosman: "As a boy in Clovelly, I recall being told that broken biscuits were sold cheaply at the grocery shop. Accordingly, I went into Mr O'Sullivans in Burnie Street and asked if he had any. He said no. So I asked if he'd mind breaking a few for me. I'd kind of missed the whole broken biscuit point."
David Cox's take on the pneumatic pipe system at Kellets in Mudgee (C8) brought about a similar memory from Geoff Sidebottom of Fairy Meadow: "In the 1950s, Ludbrooks in Launceston had a central cashier in a raised podium. This was connected to the sales counters by a wire on which money was put in a pod and sent slightly uphill by an elastic sling-shot device. The change and receipt slid back downhill without such need. This was an era when men wore hats – and the wire height was such that the sales girls competed to try and knock the hats off unusually tall men. It was a little like a submariner launching a torpedo to hit a ship by calculating speed and distance."