Black Magic

It was dreary at times, going through the Depression years, but one day I discovered that Dad had a way of his own to brighten things up a bit. When it happened, it would be on a Saturday afternoon. He would suddenly look at me and say, "How about some Black Magic then, Den?" Smiling, I would agree. He would produce half a crown and off I'd go to a pub about 10 minutes walk up the street.

As first I felt very small and uncertain going into the pub. What if a policeman should see me? But Dad had said it would be alright as I would only be getting Black Magic chocolate , or icecream or even dandelion and burdock fizzy drink. And in I'd go.

It was a strange place to me at first. The gleaming glassware, the solid timber and highly polished furniture, but I did enjoy the heady assortment of smells. I'd take several slow deep breaths; it was so nice.

None of my mates ever saw me going into the pub. I always hoped I'd be seen going in there. I wanted to hear them ask me what I was doing, going into t' pub. I would have felt just a little bit superior-like, being able to say to them:

"Oh, I often go into t' pub; I'm well know there you know."

But they never did ask me and my moment of superiority was lost.

Well anyway, that's where I got those special little Depression-time treats - the Black Magic chocolate, the icecream and the fizzy drink. If I had bought the icecream, then by the time I arrived home it would be just at the right stage of runniness that I liked. It tasted so rich and creamy, and was worth a few minutes walk up the road. Then, the Depression didn't seem so bad.

© Dennis Crompton 1995
(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)