Counting Money

Counting Money  ©

By Michael Casey

 

The King was in his counting house accounting out his money when down came a Blackbird…

We all remember this from school days, days getting further away from us all the time.

We all know how to save the pennies, save the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves.

Make ends meet, what does that mean, touching your toes perhaps?

Scrimp and save, things are tight, does that mean you are fat? Or lack of money.

We all learn about money when we are small. We remember the sound of loose change in  dad’s pocket.

We were getting a treat because Dad was getting money out, we could hear the sound we were happy.

I’m old enough to remember real money, pounds shillings and pence money.

It was 12 pennies to the shilling and 20 shillings to a pound, and horses were sold in guinnies, if I’ve spelt it right.

Our money confused my American cousins, but it was fun explaining it to them. A halfpenny, a penny, a threepenny bit, a sixpence, a shilling, a florin, a half a crown, crowns I next saw, an orange 10 shillings note and then a pound note, and then other notes which I never got to see because I was too small.

Explain all that to a foreigner and they were totally lost, going to the moon was easier to understand.

I’m old enough to remember the joy of the Apollo landing, we were the world, everything was so exciting, Apollo and Ali not to mention the Beatles and real money.

A penny was made of copper and so was the half penny, the threepenny bit was six sided with a portcullis design on it, it went green with age. The sixpence was very slim slimmer that today’s 5 new pence. The shilling was thicker and perhaps bigger than today’s 10pence. It was real money and the sweets it bought were so much better than today’s sweets, or so it seems.

We knew about money because we had lodgers and they came to the back door to pay the rent, sometimes barely able to stand up, smoke and beer belching over us kids. Are you alright Mrs Casey? As they leant on the lintel for support, staggering away to the pub again.

The gas and electric meters had to be emptied and the money counted. We had a copper coloured metal jug which had the keys for the locks on the meters inside it, when dad had then we knew he’d be counting soon. He emptied the money on the kitchen table and started counting, piles of coins, shillings and florins.

Dad was like a Casino croupier counting and stacking the coins. Then when he’d finished he’d put the coins in little plastic bags, and after that in a small leather black bag. This was his lunch bag for work at the foundry, but when the gas or electric bill came it was the bag for the money. I was charged with walking down to the corner shop, there I’d present the money to Mr Singh who wouldn’t even weigh it, just throw it in his safe and peel off the money from his very large wad from his back pocket. Smiling we’d say our goodbyes both happy with the exchange. Who needs a bank when you have a corner shop?

There are more stories to tell, but I’ll save those for another day.

TTFN

Michael

www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com