Winter blog part 11: A New Era, Aardvark and a 'new wave'

The shop was a huge venture. Upstairs we simply moved our stuff from the cottage into the flat, knocked a wall down (well almost, we exposed the studwork and painted it). There was an old working tv in one of the rooms, but there was no signal in Carmarthen then, just a cable service that ran across the rooftops, managed by a firm called ‘Radio Rentals’. If you paid a weekly rent, they would connect you to the physical network. I just bought a connector and tapped in for free. I’d never had a TV before, since leaving home. There were three channels to choose from and twice a week there was a music program almost worth watching. It was hardly ever on.

Hillary did all the sign writing and to fit out the shop I used the same skills as I had for the cottage, second hand timber from the dump for a frame and the discarded boards that were used in the local cheese factory for the shelving. On a trip to the farmers auction in Llanybydder I spotted that the old Pharmacy and Chemist shop was empty and I gave the old couple that had run it a call. They said it was going to be converted into offices for an estate agent and we could have any of the fittings for a tenner if I could take them the same day. I came back with a 15ft mahogany counter complete with shelves under, all with lovely brass handles, a pair of Avery scales with a detachable bowl and all its weights and a long wooden till with a little glass window in the top where you could write the items down, the till roll turned mechanically as you opened the draw to put the money in, it was lovely in its own simplicity. We took dozens of old sweet jars and decorated tins as well. The counter must have weighed half a ton, it took 8 of us to get it out onto a farm trailer to get home.

                                                   

I wanted to run the shop on the same premise as before, buying bulk adding a 20% mark up and letting people bag, weight and pay. We had Honey, Peanut butter, apple juice concentrate and other liquid goods on tap. or spoon it into your own jars. All the grains and pulses in open sacks along the floor with a scoop and brown paper bags. If people took a full 56lb bag or an unopened box we just marked it up 10% for handling. We always had pre packed bags as well on the shelf, all packed up in the small back rooms. I wanted it to almost run itself , we had good friends who we paid a little to help with the bagging and labelling, Rik and Tina and Phil from the local art college notably. I had a bank account so that we could open accounts with suppliers but mostly, where I could, I operated in cash. Local suppliers liked this, we sourced our flour from a local mill, stoneground, and carried fresh bread from the local baker (it took some convincing to get them to make it organic and vegetarian).

Cash was also useful for dealing with some of the lorry drivers from the big mills and distributors, they all seemed to have little side deals to offer, they might have 5 more sacks of oats that someone 'hadn’t wanted' and would let me have them half price if I paid cash, same with some of the sales reps, “samples” they would say, but you doubted that 10 x 28 lb boxes of Iraqi dates, could really be categorised that way. I honestly think much of it was sanctioned by the companies to get round “Import Quotas” and strict agricultural policies.

I could soon spend a few days at time away from the shop playing music or hanging out with friends. Pete Milner convinced me to buy a small, ancient, Gestetna printing press, he and Hillary, Liz and Phil would publish an underground newsletter, full of art, poetry, politics and community events. It ran pretty successfully for some time. (a few years back I saw a copy in the British Library, amongst a selection of 60’s and 70’s “underground literature” with Oz and International Times). Pete and Liz had badges made promoting positive psychology, wellbeing and self worth Just ‘You’re worth it , I’m worth it’.

All copies of "space magazine" available here courtesy of Pete Milner.

You couldn’t buy Brown rice, soy sauce or whole oats in supermarkets then and the shop just got busier and busier, attracting people from all walks of life, some more adventurous house wives and art students alongside the hippie community and I think the only problem we ever had was with a few people from what was described as TeePee Valley , who would shoplift and “liberate goods” according to what they claimed was an anarchist agenda , but was more likely that they had spent their dole money on something instead of food. These were the people who would accuse me of being a “Bread Head” and “Selling Out” without really even trying to understand the ethos of the enterprise.

There was a sort of side entrance/annexe to the shop with some chairs and a little upstairs room, people would hang out there, store their shopping while waiting for lifts, discuss the meaning of life and generally act as an alternative community base, full of interesting people. It had a busy noticeboard, lifts offered, places to to stay in exchange for some work, for sale and wanted, alternative therapies, gigs, poetry nights, agitprop, campaigns against stuff and Ase investigated it to run a private clinic, before renting a room up the Waverly Stores nearby. Hillary tried to run a little coffee shop but never managed to be there to open it and her relationship with food proved a bit of a barrier.

(The shop moved only recently to Lammas Street ( renamed Aardvark Alternatives), but still has the old counter and the shelving units that I put in in 1976. There is a cafe on the original site now.)

The move to Carmarthen and input from a new generation of students and musicians had moved my attention from the music of an increasingly predictable hippie ‘West Coast USA ‘, which was becoming little short of “easy Listening” to listening to newer music suggested by art student friends, Nik Turner and some of the younger musicians around. We were increasingly listening to the birth of Punk and Electronica. Wendy May would bring me ideas and inspiration. There was a new voice for youth, revolution and anti-authoritarian protest emerging. John Wadlow asked me to help him form a band.

Interior of the original Aardvark shop at 2 Mansell St circa 1975/6

Aside:

( At the age of 13, when one of my sisters boyfriends was in a band called "The Snobs" and gave me a few drum lessons, I had gone on the bus to West Croydon and picked up a glossy catalogue of 'Premier Drums" in the music shop by the bus garage. It had been a boyhood fantasy to own such a thing, I would paw over the catalogue endlessly dreaming that one day I might own such an expensive and wonderful thing. I had only ever owned bottom of the range 'Gigster' drums and a couple of fire damaged 'Olympics' never matching colours, hardly playable. When I got the shop up and running and there was money left in the bank, I went out and bought a brand new, shiny, jet black one like this one below. I cant describe my pleasure in having it )

Courtesy of the vintage drum guide 
http://www.vintagedrumguide.com/images/premier_drumsets/1976-premier-catalog-3.jpg