Don't-Ya-Knows, And Other Barbers In Rodbourne
Ah, now to get back to Don’t-Ya-Know.
He was the family barber, and I might say a favourite of everybody’s. He was a good old stick.
He had a little place up there between the Post Office and the Mechanics Institute. Only a little lock-up shop.
He used to come down there, walk down there every morning with a little Gladstone bag and take it back again at night full up with his cash like, you know, all the way to Page Street, which is Beckhampton Street now.
“Ah well, when I got down there first thing this morning, don’t ya know, I walked down the street see, and I see this fellow don’t ya know, and he looked a bit suspicious to me don’t ya know so I thought, well, I’d better keep my eye on him don’t ya know”
Well that’s how he got his name. Everything was Don’t-Ya-Know with him.
But he was alright of course. If you was speaking to him, it was always Gus – we never knew his name, nobody knew his name, whether it was Charlie or George or Bill, Bill Brown, or Charlie Amos, nobody knew. Anyhow, that was how he got his name.
There was three of them then, barbers. I say barbers, they were barbers. There was really short back and sides.
There was Stratfords – they were just outside the Monkey Club, up by Redcliffe Street there. Then coming on down, near enough on Jennings Street corner, a little way up just before you get to the Dolphin, there was Beezer’s and then Don’t-Ya-Know.
Well, Mr and Mrs Stratford, they run this place up the top of the Lane up, course the posh people from around Redcliffe Street used to go there, us kids weren’t allowed to go there. He did do the hair cutting. He had two chairs see. He did do the hair cutting and perhaps, course all the old men used to call in for a shave eventually, penny a time. They would sit there in the chair and she was lathering up. One was cutting the hair, and she was lathering up. He used to leave his hair cutting and go and shave the old boy and she was fiddling about combing hair and one thing and t’other, swapping backwards and forwards from chair to chair.
And Beezer’s was the same. Baz would say “Don’t-Ya-Know, he carried the lot all on his own.” Oh, if you had quarter pence in your pocket, quarter pence was a pocket of woodbines then – he charged four pence for a hair cut. You never had to worry, if you only had four pence you would buy your wood bines and call in and see Don’t-Ya-Know and then half way through your hair cut
“Alright til Friday, Guv’nor?”
“Ah, that’ll be alright – you won’t run away”
Oh that was him. But when I say a haircut, it was four or five swipes, straight over the top. Same from ear to ear. That was an ‘aircut.
I’ve been in there many a time when one of the young lad who’d called in, dressed up to the nines, going to meet his young lady,
“Alright Gus!”
“Ah help yourself, you know where it is. And over they did go, ???) smattered on their hair. And he’d use his comb as well “Thanks ever so much, Gus”
“That’s alright, kid. ‘Ere, you don’t want yer neck shaved do yer? There’s nobody in the chair” “No, I ain’t got time Guv’nor”
Well that was Gus – he looked after all the out-of-works and all the young lads – oh he was a real sport.
