Down the Alley to Place Your Bets

 More on the alleyway bookie’s runner: 



 If you wanted to put a bet on a horse, and a lot of people around here did, then you went and dealt with your local bookie’s runner. Old Joe Parkin used to work from this little cut through that ran alongside the Royal Oak pub. It’s still there though I wouldn’t go anywhere near it now if I were you. It’s not like it was in our day anymore, and even back then it wasn’t the best of places. This cut through where Joe worked was just a length of pavement with a tall brick wall at either side and a big bollard at each end. The things that probably went off in there at night don’t bear thinking about, it didn’t half stink if it hadn’t rained for a bit. Anyway, old Joe would be there to collect and pay out bets at certain times of the day that everybody seemed to just know.  He had this little leather satchel that he hid under his coat. It meant that he had to wear his coat even on the hottest day. Mother and Dad used to send us along to Joe with their bets and Barbara was somehow fascinated by him. I think it was partly the chink of pennies as they went into his satchel and partly the badges that he wore on his lapel.

 Visit Amazon and search for Pollywasher by Sarah Miller Walters, a story of one woman's journey through the gambling industry of the late 20th Century. 


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