Mobile Shops: Ron The Ironmonger

Ron Taylor's travelling ironmongery shop reminded me of Spike Milligan's illustration of Bluebottle. Bluebottle was a dedicated Boy Scout who always had a tin mug, spoon, toothbrush and catapult dangling from a piece of string tied around his waist. Ron's van also had a spectacular variety of goods tied around its waist, including dustbins, fuel cans, hosepipes, brooms and pitchforks. And every week this spectacular contraption would rattle and sway its way into our farmyard, announcing its arrival with a cacophony sounding like the Eiffel Tower falling down.
Out from the driver's seat would climb Ron, or sometimes his trusty assistant Tom, and descend very carefully to avoid dislodging anything. I got the impression that one false move could bring the whole gently rocking, creaking edifice down with a crash, throwing every animal and human of a nervous disposition within miles into a blind panic. It would already have made them twitchy.
Mum usually dealt with travelling shops on her own, but Ron's mobile Aladdin's Cave was for everyone. The stock list included six inch nails, candles, string, feather dusters, paraffin, screwdrivers, tins of dog food, a wonder hand cleaner known as Swarfega which removed all oil and tractor grease, and probably a layer of skin, from hands, and left-handed number eight nurdler's wing nuts. I made that last one up, but if you think they exist then Ron would have been sure to have some on his van. It had Tardis qualities.
Mum bought things like Fairy liquid, Brillo Pads and tins of pet food (most farmers kept cats and dogs to keep down vermin). Dad bought Swarfega and paraffin. Paraffin and other dangerous substances were top shelf material, and included rat poison and methylated spirits, usually known as meths. My brother Mark and I always tried to wangle some meths, because we used it to fire up our working model of a steam engine. Besides being to us an object of great beauty, the miniature steam engine powered whatever amazing machine we had conjured up out of our motley collection of Meccano, one of the best toys ever made, followed closely by Lego.
In those days, and being raised on a farm with all its dangers and delights, we were taught how to avoid hazards. Most of the time we did. We had red headed matches and meths and were expected not to burn the house down. And somehow we never did.