At the urging of Grandad Ellis, who never enjoyed a pension, both my father and his brother Roy had joined Martins Bank (now part of Barclays) because it was a job with a pension. Dad joined in 1919, when he was 16, and the ink written ledgers were still dried by sprinkling sand on them - blotting paper not yet having been invented ! It was eighteen years before he was promoted to serve as a cashier at the counter, and he grew to hate, loathe and detest banking. Nonetheless, it was a secure job, which during the 1930's when twenty five percent of the Liverpool workforce were unemployed because of the Depression, was not to be underrated. Also, despite annual salary increases being in the order of £20 per year - and not always awarded - by the late 1930's, he was probably earning one and a half times the national average of £250 per year. His earnings from writing too, which he taken up to combat the monotony of banking, were probably worth another £150 per year. We were therefore comfortably off. We always had a maid - in fact a succession of maids, because they never seemed to last long. I can only remember three : a girl called Rose; a daunting lady who proclaimed that she was not a mere maid, she was a cook/general; and of course Mary O'Dwyer, a sweet Irish soul who stayed for years and years. Mum suffered from poor health throughout her life and had numerous operations, so perhaps having a maid wasn't necessarily such a luxury, but we usually had one.

The local shops were located at the end of Wavertree Nook Road, probably about three hundred yards away. There was a Newsagent, Fieldsend & Mills, where one could buy sweets and newspapers. I clearly remember buying small tin motorcars made in Japan. The small ones were a penny and the bigger ones were tuppence. I had a large collection of these. Next door was Murray's the Chemist, where one could buy the metholated spirits used to fuel the little burners which ran the toy donkey engines inherited from my father's youth. Several were steam operated and one worked using hot air. Then there was the Cobbler's shop where our shoes were repaired. Next to it, on the corner, was the local Co-operative Wholesale Society Shop. Everything purchased counted towards the periodic monetary dividend and you had to quote your dividend number - ours was 68651 !  There was a cashier high up at the back of the shop, and your money and bill was placed in a metal container which was attached to an overhead wire. When a handle was pulled, it released a spring which propelled the container along a wire across the shop to the cashier. He stamped the bill, counted out the change and sent it back across the shop to the counter where you waited.