Keys
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons
When I was five years old, my parents bought a small shop which sold newspapers and magazines, tobacco, confectionery and stationery. We lived in the flat above the shop and it was quite a contrast to the large house from which we had moved. The only way to access the flat was through the shop.
In those days, the police had regular foot patrols around the streets throughout the night. They checked all the locks on business premises and were tasked to enter unlocked doors and investigate.
One night, my parents were awoken from a deep sleep by a beat copper standing at the foot of their bed. He had found the shop door unlocked and walked through the shop and up two flights of stairs before finding them. Thereafter, we were all very aware that doors must be checked and double-checked before we could relax.
Eventually, I reached an age when I was allowed out on my own and I wandered far and wide out of the town and into the countryside, always on my own. Although I was not permitted to stay out late, there were occasions when I reached home after the shop had shut. My parents decided that I should have a key, and I was told that I must guard it very carefully. It had a long shaft and one day, to my horror, it snapped as I unlocked the door. Expecting to find myself in hot water, I said nothing, but took it to the local hardware store to see if it could be mended. Of course, it couldn’t, and I had to have a replacement made, which took a few days.
This happened during the summer holidays, when I spent most of my days at the local outdoor swimming pool, where I met my friends. I returned home only when the pool closed, by which time the shop was also closed. While I anxiously waited for my replacement key, I made sure I reached home before the door was locked. It was unusual behaviour but was not commented on.
Much later on, I realised that my parents must have known all along what had happened. All the traders knew each other very well and were customers in our shop, so it’s more than likely that my ‘secret’ was relayed to my parents long before the new key was safely in my hands. It was never mentioned – very wise, my parents.
It was comforting then, at least to the law-abiding citizens, to see police officers walking the streets and to know that they would deal with any problems. It’s rare to see police foot patrols now, at least in my reasonably civilised part of the world. Maybe there would be less yobbish behaviour if they were reintroduced, for, despite the generally pleasant surroundings, there is a rowdy element in the community that sometimes causes problems.
Our house is an old one (by our country's standards, anyway) and the heavy oak front and back doors had the old fashioned skeleton keys. Tim was so very thrilled with those old brass lock and keys that he took the locks apart and lubricated them so that they worked freely and the tumblers would turn once again when the old keys were used. He did a good job and they work just fine. (except that we rarely lock them)
ReplyDeleteHeavy oak doors sound wonderful. How lovely to live where doors can be left unlocked all the time.
DeleteI remember days when doors weren't locked (shops were but not houses) and I would come home from school to an empty house, letting myself in, making a snack, then heading to the beach and coming home when the sun started going down to find dad home from work and cooking dinner. I also remember policemen in twos walking all over town and knowing all the families and the kids, in particular those kids who were likely to "muck up" and receive a talking to. I don't think I ever had my own key until I moved out and lived in a flat right after I married.
ReplyDeleteThere used to be a song, 'Twenty-one today, twenty-one today, I've got the key of the door, never been twenty-one before.'
DeleteThose were the good old days. Gone forever now though. Nowadays there are security cameras and alarms everywhere. We even inherited a CCTV camera with this house.
ReplyDeleteThere was more trust and less ease of movement around the area. More contentment, too, generally.
DeleteI had a key when we lived in Brussels, lost them all the time, but found them again, (still up today) in Cities life was different, in my Grandparents village I don't remember a policemen,j but the mailman who stepped into the kitchen through the open door ! Unthinkable today.
ReplyDeleteSimpler times and more trusting.
DeleteA wonderful story; I particularly liked the part about the patrolman at the foot of your parents' bed. (Though I think I might have died of fright.) You've introduced me to the word yobbish.
ReplyDeleteMy parents were fairly startled! 😮
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like you lived over a grocery shop to me but you didn't become PM. It wasn't really your fault the key broke. More than once I've seen Special Constables, I think they are called, on foot patrol in Newcastle on Tyne. Here they are more likely to be on bicycles or horses but they do get around by foot in the city area too, but perhaps only to visit a doughnut shop.
ReplyDeleteI think the big cities are the places to see police on foot - or horse - but our locality has a fairly small population. It's called a village but is more like a small town.
DeleteWe had a village bobby who knew everyone, which was great if you were being good.
ReplyDeleteI bet his presence ensured good behaviour from almost everyone.
ReplyDeleteAs children, when we saw an adult coming, let alone a policeman, we checked whatever we were doing and made sure we were behaving, even if all we had been doing was being noisy or anything else that would draw attention. I suppose it was authoritarian, but there was very little crime.
ReplyDeleteWe knew we were expected to behave ourselves and made sure we did. The consequences of not doing so were not to be welcomed.
DeleteThis is such a wonderful story, absolutely loved it! How startling it must have been to find the Bobby at the foot of the bed, and the story about your broken key, I had such a big smile reading all of this. My Dad was a policeman. He would often be picked up by his K9 colleagues, and we always happily played with the dogs while Mum gave Dad’s friends a cup of tea, and a saucer of water for the dogs. I miss the days of the beat bobby.
ReplyDeleteMy only experience with family owning a store and living above, was my uncle's meat market and his family of 4. I'm sure he kept the doors locked but I never thought about my cousins having a key for after hours. Here more police drive about and few walk anywhere. In our capital city Columbus, they do ride horses and a few are on bicycles. I doubt any check for locked doors at night.
ReplyDeleteIt's a different and changing world.
DeleteI thought that I might get a primer on keys and their history but was happy to read your personal anecdote and reflections.
ReplyDeleteFunnily enough, I was going to write a piece on the history of keys and locks, but decided against it. Let someone else do it 😎
DeleteWe do see more police in the cities, on horseback, too.
ReplyDeleteI have a small collection of old keys with long shafts. I also enjoyed the story.
ReplyDeleteThere are some beautiful old keys - real works of art. I envy you your collection.
DeleteYes, it was always a comfort to see police officers walking the streets, if only that was still 'the normal'.
ReplyDeleteAll the best Jan
It would be good to see and might make some impulsive people think twice.
Deletesiempre es bueno cuando la policía patrulla. Te mando un beso.
ReplyDeleteIt is.
DeleteLove that picture - it would be perfect for the 'put your finger on it' game in House of Games, wouldn't it? xx
ReplyDeleteI like different styles of keys. (I had to look up House of Games . . . )
ReplyDeleteThose were the days ... police foot patrols are almost non-existent here these days. I always double and triple check whether I've locked the door, both at home and at the office and I sometime obsess about having left my key in the lock, resulting in more checking. I think I might have a case of OCD ... xxx
ReplyDelete