Small change for a sea change

Most of us were lucky enough as children to be given pocket money. What was pocket money for you as a child is small change now. It can help us give our children experiences and support that will create a sea change in their childhood.

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Robert Carlyle

My early childhood years were very poor. Money was tight and "pocket money" non-existent. I had heard of it, but there was no one I knew who actually got it. Things changed a little for my father and i when i was around 9 or 10 and i can remember the very first time my dad gave me something to spend on a Saturday. It was either two shillings or half a crown, around 10-15p nowadays. I thought I was rich and spent it on a comic, a packet of Polo Mints and a packet of crisps. I got the same amount every week intermittently over the next few years and I always bought the same thing. I would read the comic over and over, eat all of the crisps very slowly and half of the mints, saving the other half for the rest of the week when I would have one a day till the next Saturday came around!

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Matthew McVarish

6am, rain or sleet, Mojo and I dragged ourselves from cozy beds to sell Sunday papers round the wards of Hairmyres Hospital, for the life-altering wage of £2.50, between us…being fifteen-months older, Mojo always scooped the lion’s share £1.35. That morning was so dark and freezing, a police car stopped to investigate where two primary-school boys were sneaking off to. The officer rolled down her window and stared at us, baffled. In silence we just stared back, Mojo wearing a Santa Hat and fluffy white beard and me in my pointy bunnet with even pointier ears sewn on. The previous week, we’d shown super-human restraint not-squandering our entire riches on Square Crisps and Um Bongo, instead we headed straight to Woolworths to invest our joint earrings in a bumper-box of Christmas cards, then spent our Saturday night voluntarily writing lines: “Merry Christmas from Mojo and Matty, your paperboys x P.S. Get well soon” Singing ‘Jingle bells’ all the way, we gave a card with every paper and the wee smiles from the poor old dears were as heartwarming as the shiny shower of 50p Christmas-tips that ensued. December 1993, we earned an earth-shattering £27.30 in one day. Ten-years-old, it was the first time I’d ever had my own ten-pound note. A nurse wrote to the East Kilbride News to thank “Santa and his Elf” for cheering up the patients bedbound over Christmas. Utterly chuffed, Mojo and I never imagined that selling newspapers could actually get us in one of them.

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Ian Rankin

My parents were very careful with money - they had to be, as there wasn't much of it around! I recall them seated at the kitchen table every pay-day, dividing the cash up, with some going to the summer holiday fund, some for Christmas presents, some for insurance policies, and so on. I think that rubbed off on me. In my teenage diary I would keep note of the albums I would buy if and when I got enough money, the price of each recorded next to it. But most of my pocket money went on boys' comics. At one point I think I was buying four or five a week. They were cheap and full of adventures, and eventually I started making up adventures of my own…”

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Carol Smillie

Carol Smillie

We didn’t get "pocket money" on any particular arrangement, in fact I don’t really remember why I would have needed any money as a kid. I didn’t really go anywhere or do anything, not in the way that my children did anyway. But I did learn the value of money early on. We lived literally next door to my school, so close that our garden wall separated us from the playground (I was always late too!). I vividly remember at about 8 years old, my mum teaching me to make tablet, and I quickly saw an opportunity…. I packed it all up and took it in to school in little bags to sell to all the kids in my class, making a tidy profit in the process. My mum kept asking me where the money was for the ingredients, so I paid her back to make sure I could do it again in future. The early beginnings of an entrepreneurial life, it seems!

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Ross Collins

My small amount of pocket money usually went on sweets and 2000AD, but there came a time when I needed to save it for something special. I had to own a copy of Jeff Wayne's 'War of the Worlds' album. My friend Euan had one and I jealously poured over the lavish artwork of the double vinyl edition while Euan and I listened to it over and over and drew our own devastating Martian attacks. Eventually, after what seemed like eons of slavishly saving, I had enough to buy my very own copy. That Saturday morning I cycled straight to Woolworths but to my dismay all they had was the pokey wee cassette version. I'd waited too long to look any further, so forwent the glossy vinyl package just so that I could finally own it. I raced home and with a black pudding roll poised at my mouth I listened to a seemingly endless silence before finally... finally Richard Burton began 'No-one would have believed, in the last years of the 19th Century, that human affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of outer space...DUM DUM DAAA!

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Irene A Reid

Pocket money for me spanned the shift from old money to new money I csn't renember exactly how much I was given but a small amount definitely. I felt SO rich with 20p or 50p. I could buy crisps - Golden Wonder salt & vinegar flavour were my favourite - and sweets. - Gobstoppers were great they lasted forever & sherbet fountains that weird combo of a stick of liquorice and sherbet. And my favourite comic which seemed to change by the week. The Beano, the Dandy and in time the Jackie. Oh I felt so rich ... and I was so lucky to have my pocket money

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Christopher Ferguson

I didn't get pocket money. Not really. I used to work on Saturdays in my granddad's newsagents, which was down the bottom of Byres Road in Glasgow. In exchange for selling sweeties, papers and the odd packet of Silk Cut, I'd be offered the choice of a crisp fiver or five pound's worth of Panini football stickers. I don't think I'd take the cash, even today.

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Claire

Every Saturday afternoon with a newly acquired shiny pound coin in my pocket, I would skip happily to the row of shops located near my house. One shop in particular always enthralled me. It was a small corner store where you had to angle yourself walking through the door for fear of disturbing the fragile wares which balanced precariously, adorning every free space. Once inside, you were enchanted by the sweet aroma of pot pourri in an Aladdin’s cave of treasures. At least that’s what it was like for me. Sparkling crystal, luxurious silks and vibrant artworks covered every inch of the tiny shop. Of course, I could not afford to buy anything but occasionally I would purchase some coloured glass pebbles or perhaps a small bejewelled hat pin which I would wear as a brooch. But to my seven year old imagination, these were priceless artefacts that would become pirate loot or be found in a long-lost Egyptian tomb in the games I played with my sisters. The items themselves may have had no great monetary value but the places they took me where priceless.

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saubia sohail

We didn’t have a concept of pocket money when I was young ,( it wasn’t because we were poor on the contrary my father was a successful businessman and we led a very comfortable life) but because my parents felt they provided us with everything which we needed hence really didn’t need any extra cash. But as we grew up (me / my sister and brother ) we wanted more things. But my parents didn’t agree with our needs so our house had a simple formula if you want something you had to earn it. We started to do chores in our house and get paid 50 p and if we were really very lucky £1 . We had our eyes set on a train set so we all worked happily and saved our collective money in a piggybank . every two weeks all three of us would open it and count all the money putting into piles and seeing if we reached our target yet. I can’t remember how long it took us but we finally one day had enough and proudly took it to our dad. He smiled and promised us he would buy it the next day and we would have it by evening, we were so excited that none of us could sleep that night. The next day went so slowly and it seemed forever for the clock to hit 6pm! With noses glued to the window we all looked down the street super excited. We got that train set, it was the first thing which was ours which we paid for. We used to play every Saturday, carefully putting all the pieces together and then carefully packing it away as if it was the most precious thing in the world. We had hours of fun with it and in the process our parents had taught us the most important lesson in life .

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Brian Thomson

I can vaguely remember getting £2 pocket money in 1975, i was 10 years old & with my love of music growing i coudnt wait to go into Woolworths in Hamilton & buy my first single record a 45rpm ( my kids would be asking a what ? ) although theyre not quite my taste now i still love Status Quo's Rockin all over the world, ah ! happy memories.

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Jackie Cameron

I remember when decimalisation came in . I had my pocket money worked out to the (old) penny to include my weekly magazine and sweets. As usual I headed to the newsagent to pick up that week's edition, handed over my old money and got my change in decimal. Sadly the conversion meant that this was 'rounded down' . It could only have been marginal but I was so angry and moaned endlessly to my parents about how unfair it was ( I was a teen....moaning was my default position)... to no avail. Some recalculations were needed. Valuable lesson on how to budget for unexpected expenses learnt!

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Jilli

I've always had this strange obsession with stationery. I used to save up all my pocket money and use it to buy fancy notebooks, diaries and pens. My favourite used to be gel pens that were glittery or metallic. Some of them even smelled like fruit or chocolate. Those days where my mum would take me in to pick what I wanted are fond memories of mine.

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Alan McGinley

There was pre-decimal pocket money and post-decimal pocket money. Until I was 10, my world was set between the Lomond View flats where we lived, the High Park across the road, the woods at the back and the allotments where, every so often, we benignly nicked rhubarb. Pocket money was a three-penny bit thrown from our 6th floor veranda by my mother in response to the ice cream van’s chimes and the best of my young lungs’ capacity. Purchases ran the spectrum: ice poles; Lucky Bags; crisps; and, now and again, a bottle of ginger if there was more than one threepence in play. When I was 10, my dad’s shipyard closed and we moved from Clydebank to Hamilton. A year later, the 12-sided three-penny bits disappeared and the 7-sided 50 pence coin became the currency and my weekly rate. Not quite quids in but it soon added up and I moved on from the confectionery to the more sophisticated delights of 7” singles, comics and fake jobbies from Tam Shepherds Magic Shop in Glasgow.

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Eve Poole

In my family, there were 4 kids to support on a teacher's salary, so we all knew that we had to be careful with money. I remember our first pocket money was 10p a week (in the late 70s), for which we had to take turns with the dinner dishes every night. We could supplement this taking bottles back to get the deposit, and occasionally we found money on the beach in St Andrews. If it was over £1 we had to take it to the Police Station, and we'd get it back later if it wasn't claimed - that meant a trip to Janettas to buy sweets! I used to spend my pocket money on comics, mainly. Best tip I ever had from a parent? Give your kids enough so they can spend a third, save a third, and give a third to charity.

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Eilidh

I got about 50p pocket money a week. It was always a bit sporadic though and often a plan would be set up then would be forgotten about. I'd get money if I was going out to a cafe with friends anyway. I got a paper round when I was 14 an would babysit for money too.

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Stuart Dexter

I remember occasionally getting pocket money on a weekly basis but not often. I started part-time work at the age of 13 so was pretty self sufficient as a tennager - one of my great thrills was getting the train from Dagenham to Camden to spend a months money on records and clothes! When I was a young child my Dad ran a betting shop and sometimes, when we'd visit, the punters would press a 50p coin in my hand, after which I'd scurry off to the newsagents next door to buy sweets and comics. I did try and buy 100 Bazooka Joe bubblegums once but the shopkeeper, quite rightly, stopped me. Somehow he assumed my Dad wouldn't be too chuffed with this bulk purchases of confectionery! That's all I can remember spending money on, sweets, comics and trips to the swimming pool. That was until music took over my life of course....

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Saffire Joriades-Israel

Pocket Money Memories I can’t remember exactly how much pocket money I was given, but I do remember that I got a little bit from a young age and it was always dispensed on a Saturday morning. It would go up by 50p or a pound (as I got older) on my birthday each year. At the age of ten I developed a burning desire to learn to play the guitar and I begged and begged my parents to let me have lessons. Eventually they made me a deal. If I paid for the guitar out of my own money, then they would pay for the lessons. There wasn’t much I wanted or needed in those days; my main purchases were sweets as I recall, so I had already managed to save a couple of pounds. I added my birthday and Christmas money to it, and as promised, I was taken to the music shop and picked out a Spanish classical guitar with a case, which came to the grand total of exactly £10.00 (which was the sum of my stash!). Whether or not that just happened to be the price, or the shop-keeper kindly tailored it to my available budget, I don’t know, but from that point on I started to have lessons and practiced religiously for half an hour a day. I took exams and got up to grade V, and along with my cousin who was learning to play the cornet, I got called upon every Christmas to perform in front of the family. I don’t play as often (or as well) as I did; life kind of got in the way, but I can still pick up a guitar and strum some chords or play a couple of tunes I memorised from all those years ago. And I still have my precious first guitar.

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Annemarie Allan

I don't remember getting much in the way of pocket money - just enough to go for a swim at the local pool on a Saturday, but I do remember the day my dad asked me to get a copy of the Catholic Herald for him from the back of the church. The change was two shillings. I didn't have time to give it to him before mass started. There was a visiting priest that day who preached a sermon about his parish in Africa. The collection was going to support that parish and I was so moved by the poverty he described that I dropped the two shillings into the collection plate when it came past me. All these years later, I can still remember the look of utter horror on the faces of my mum and dad as they watched that two shillings disappear!

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Tony Wylie

A penny. Big, round, almost the size of my palm. One a day. Fantastic. Later these would be made old fashioned by the small shiny 'new pennies' that came fresh from the bank in rolls of cardboard. A whole penny. Over to Edna's sweetshop to spend ages choosing from the penny sweets. Some weeks if I could bear it, I would save up for three days and get a bag of crisps. Riches. Ready salted or salt and vinegar? I didn't like cheese and onion, but sometimes I would be tempted by the new kid on the block - chicken flavour. Then one day it occurred to me that if I saved up long enough I could buy a bar of Bourneville chocolate. The epitome of luxury. Could i do it? It was over a week. My pocket money just sitting there while my brothers and sister were spending theirs. It seemed impossible when I thought of it, but I was determined to do it, and I felt so grown up when I finally went over the road to Edna's and handed over all that money. On the way back home the enormity of it began to sink in. A whole bar of chocolate, just for me. Even though I had saved for it, it suddenly didn't seem right, it was too much. I began to feel guilty, the enjoyment was melting away. I knew I had to do something to get rid of this feeling, so when I got home I said – "Does anyone want some chocolate?" And that was when I discovered I am the only person in my family who likes dark chocolate. Suddenly the enjoyment came rushing back and I ate the whole thing slowly and triumphantly. I couldn't wait for tomorrow's pocket money.

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Vonny Moyes

My dad died when I was six, so pocket money wasn’t regular. It was a special treat reserved for my uncle’s shore leave from the navy. When he came home, my sisters and I luxuriated in rare undivided adult attention. We’d lie on the living room rug, feasting on stories of places we vaguely knew from maps and books. His pockets were always fat with change. Treasure, he told us. It was only pennies, but to us it was a fortune – one understood in quantities of Smarties, Space Raiders and Crème Eggs, earned through answering general knowledge questions, singing or improv skits. Best of all was when he stashed around the sitting room for us to feverishly unearth from the backs of clocks, curtain folds and sofa cushion dunes. Because pocket money was unusual, it was memorable. The powerful itch to spend it made athletes of us as we sprinted to the village shop. In those days we could imagine nothing finer than sitting together, bums on sun-bleached summer grass, lips cerulean blue from the Slush Puppies our riches had bought us.

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Isla Dewar

Pocket money was always a single coin back then when I was old enough to get it and young enough to squander it. With a pal, I'd take it to Ma Penman's shop round the corner. We'd spend careful time considering our choices Ma Penman hovered, watching. She wore a floral cross-over apron and a red felt hat and she thought Mars Bars were for adults only and always refused to sell us one. Sometimes, then, we'd leave the shop, saddle up our imaginary horses and trot up to the bigger shop at the other end of the road. Our plan had been to buy a Mars Bar and ride out to the Plains where we'd meed the Sioux Nation and trade the chocolate fro buffalo hides. Usually though, the Sioux Nation lost out as we'd eat the goods for sustenance on our journey. Often, though, I'd save my money and take it to Woolworth's (long gone now) and stand coins pressed in small sweaty palms looking longingly at the stationery - jotters with shiny red covers, pencils with a rubber at one end, multi-coloured biros, pencil sharpeners in the shape of television sets. I loved stationery. Still do. Can't resist it. Money back then was different. Threepenny bits, sixpences, half crowns - I miss that currency. It had character. I used it to buy the cheap notebook I filled with little stories about lost dogs and savage Indians that crept round my childhood bungalow as I slept. My pocket money funded the passion that was the beginning of me.

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Samantha Dean

Well, where do I start? I remember my poor old dad working long hours which meant we hardly ever saw him and that in itself was (looking back on it) part of the many sacrifices he made for us. He came home tired and stressed and then had to deal with all of us kids running around trying to get his attention...and no word of a lie we were pretty active kids. Then one Saturday completely out of the blue (I believe I was around ten) it was decided that we should all get a little pocket money every week, I was beyond excited it was so completely and utterly unexpected. Previous to this moment I can remember money being so short that for a special treat my mum used to buy a mars bar and cut it into chunks for us all to share... so this was like wow actual pocket money, we couldn't believe it. Then Saturday morning came and I can remember being given my first few pennies and being a kid I went straight to the old newsagents not far from our house and spent the lot on a comic (think it was the Beano or Whoopie) and a few (two for a penny) fruit salad sweets . I can't put into words how grown up having my own little bit of money made me feel... My sister and myself both made a pact that we would always buy a little sweetie for our folks with our pocket money (as a kind of thank you) and do you know this was probably the best part...deciding what little sweet to buy for our folks every week.

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Joanne McMeeking

It was the highlight of my week....every Friday our pocket money was lined up on the kitchen counter. It wasn't a lot, but gosh I did a lot of planning about what to buy. Top of the list was making sure the delivery of my Jackie magazine continued. As I got a bit older and too cool for Jackie my thoughts turned to weekly trips with my pals to buy records at the Livingston "Rainbow" record shop. Many hours were spent thumbing through the racks and skipping out of the shop with my new vinyl in the black and white carrier bag. Those were the days!!!!!!

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Laura Steckley

When I was a kid, my favourite way to use pocket money (called 'allowance' where I come from) was to go to Jack's. Jack was an old farmer who ran a penny candy store, and this store was well off my normal beaten path. So going to Jack's was always a bit special and involve a small sense of a journey. I haven't thought of Jack or his store in years and years. Great fundraiser, Seamab! I hope it's fruitful.

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Natalie Bennett

I was about seven when pocket money started, initially 50 cents (about 25p) and then rising to one Australian dollar. I used to save it up and spend it all on books – mostly English pony books. They were an escape, totally removed from the reality of my life. Not only were the natural and social worlds entirely foreign, but the children were allowed to roam the countryside alone, get dirty, fall off horses, and work together to solve problems. I was not allowed to run around outside, play with the children in the street or even go barefoot, due to the influence of my working class grandmother, who was heavily into being “respectable”. The books might have been portraying a privileged life, but the ones I liked best were those where the relatively poor girl with the cheap pony beat the “toffs” to the first prize.

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Cameron McNeish

I was brought up in Glasgow and although I had a very happy childhood money was always tight. However, my parents began giving me pocket money when I was about 12 years of age. I think it was half a crown, or two and six which relates to 12.5p in todays currency. Doesn't sound a lot but it was enough to buy me some comics - DC's about Batman, Superman, etc and pay my bus fares to various parts of the city. I don't recall ever feeling short of money but even when I reached the age of 19 and was working as a young Police Officer, whenever I visited my old grandmother she would always slip a half crown into my hand before I went home.

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WriterStat

Pocket money, such small words for such a big change. Pocket money means ice cream cones, bubble gum, dreams fulfilled. It means thoughts given, ideas hatched, life lived. It means giving and trying and working through things to get what is needed or wanted. It means saving and living and sharing when possible. Pocket money can do so many things when given and shared. Pocket money is a magical door to books and reading and tastes. And adventures when pooled or shared. Dreams and goals were accomplished with pocket money. Pocket money...such small words for dreams shared.

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Denny Ford

I didn't get pocket money, mum and dad were skint so I had to get a weekend job. No joke. Saturday and Sunday mornings 8-10. Got me a fiver. Started age 11 till I left school. I worked in the pub where my aunt was a cleaner. I helped to clean up. Took out the empties, filled shelves, empty kegs, replaced with new ones (hated this, too heavy!) and counted money from pool table and slot machines. I can compare this to my kids. To get pocket money, they just stick their hands out ! I loved music, so bought records with the money. Also loved football, the Rangers supporters bus left from the pub - very handy. In the summer of '87 I went to Germany with a youth group on holiday. Upon return the pub owners changed and I got sacked. The new guy didn't need help. 5 years service and not even a handshake - welcome to the work of work! When I then started work on a YTS course I was delighted to actually get a weekend off !

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John

I got 50 pence a week. I'd spend it on comics, football cards, cars or sweets. When I had my paper round I used my money to buy football kit, especially boots.... and still comics.... Shoot was my favourite!!! Roy of the Rovers too. And as I got older because I had my paper round my mum stopped pocket money. And when I was older I'd use my wages from my paper round to buy concert tickets, football boots and to pay for my bus fare to go and see my first love!!! I had my paper round until I was 18!!

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Garry Dalton

I recall the annual family holiday during the Glasgow Fair when dad would hire a car for the full fortnight and we (dad, mum, big sister and me) would embark on 14 day-long holidays somewhere within 3 hours from home. Mum and dad were very clever, I have now learned more so as an adult, as their wishes to avoid the inevitably repetitive "are we there yet" comments from us siblings were achieved by a prize competition, being 10p to the winner and nothing for second place, to the first person who sees a Harry Lawson lorry on the road. That kept sister and me glued to the car windows, and also very quiet and maybe explains why mum and dad "preferred" to go to places on the west coast rather than the east. Silence is golden (we are told) and free if you use the right tactics!

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Hazel

I remember playing in the garage at my friend Hannah's house. Her Dad was painting the floor. Taking one tin of leftover paint at a time and brushing a patchwork of colour onto the floor. It was windy outside so Hannah and I were hovering, daring the paint to splash on our shoes. He glanced up at us and smiled - here you go lasses. He sat, half up, and pulled a hand full of change out of his pocket. How much do you get for pocket money? He asked. My Dad didn't live with us anymore so for me the answer was none. But Hannah laughed and said £1! He gave us £1 each. A whole, round gold coin each. We were thrilled and ran off all the way down the hill to the shop to spend it on sweets. I still remember his kindness. And Hannah's cheeky smile, happy that he gave us £2 rather that £1 between us! That was a good day.

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Jamie Graham

Before life was one big supermarket, Logan’s on the Brae had all my heart desired. After Swap Shop on a Saturday, the boys of the house would make the trip to a sugary land that also had toys to fuel bright imaginations. Cowboy guns hung on the walls, keeping frisbees company until they flew off. Candy skulls, placed in silver trays, Gobstoppers and cola bottles, making up a 10p mixture. I loved those days. A Saturday fixture.

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Julie Devenney

I think initially it was only 50p but in the 80s that could buy you a lot! The penny sweets were always a favourite and my brother and I would spend ages picking. A more expensive, but personal, favourite was the sweetie necklace (10p) with matching watch bracelet (5p) a firm favourite with my own kids today! We also liked to buy the huge bag of spaghetti bubble gum and then have a competition on who amongst our friends could fit the most bubblegum in our mouths- I don't think anyone ever managed the full packet! The corner shop was our sweetie paradise and we would head there as soon as we got our pocket money. The owner must have had the patience of a saint waiting for us, white packet in hand, to decide what penny sweet we had finally decided upon!

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Ailsa Abraham

We weren't well off when I was a child. My father died when I was four, leaving my mother to raise me on a widow's pension. She was rather a smart old Scot and to discourage me spending my half crown (12.5p to you modern youngsters) on sweets she had Fairy Daffodil who left me a surprise bag of sweets in the house somewhere on a Sunday morning. This gave me a weekly treasure hunt and the eternal dilemma of "scoff'em all at once" or make them last the week. Strangely enough the pocket money I got was exactly the price of a Penguin's children's paperback so every week I would trot into the shop and add to my growing collection of Narnia books or Biggles adventures. I'm sure my pocket money helped me become a writer. The sweets helped me become a fat ole biddy!

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Sir George and Lady Daphne Reid, Seamab Patrons

We both grew up during the Second World War and its aftermath. My earliest memory of being given some loose change by my father was outside the bank in the High Street of Alloa. There was a model plane in the window and a collection box underneath so that the people of Clackmannanshire could contribute their own Spitfire to the war effort. My first pocket money, therefore, went into defeating Hitler. Daphne used to stand on the platform of Stirling Station staring at a 1930s penny slot machine for a bar of chocolate, even though she knew all that was inside was cardboard. There was, however, one working machine which - if you pushed buttons and pulled levers - would print out your name on a metal strip. That's where her Saturday Penny went. The damned things keep turning up even now in odd corners of the house.

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John Ryan

My first memory of getting pocket money was in the late 1970s when I'd get 50p per week. I'd buy comics with it, football cards (panini stickers are the modern day equivalent) or sweets. My favourite comics were Shoot and Roy of the Rovers probably because I always wanted to be a football player - I still do!!!! As I got into my early teens I started delivering news papers and would save my money to buy things like football boots, team kits and goalie gloves. I remember saving to buy my first race bike and would use my earnings to maintain it and buy stickers for it. I'd always have to earn my pocket money for doing a chore at home like taking my turn to wash up or help my mum by going with her to the shops and carry the shopping home as my mum couldn't drive, with the local co-op was a ten minute walk away. If I did an errand for my aunts and uncles I'd also sometimes get 10 or 20 pence.

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Michael

I am the youngest of 6 children, and my dad only gave pocket money upon completion of "chores" - as the youngest mine was fairly basic, and I think my big sister did most of the chores; she also tended to take the money under the auspices of "looking" after it! I can remember going to the local shop and buying penny caramels, and sherbet fountains with a liquorice in them - what I can't remember is whether it was bought from pocket money earned or not!! When I was a bit older I remember having a paper round delivering the evening papers Monday to Saturday aswell as the Sunday papers - Sunday bag was so heavy that the newsagent use to meet me half way round my route to help me restock my bag - for years after I avoided buying any Sunday papers that had magazines and different sections. From memory I think I got about £5 a week. I also worked as a milk boy (my big brother was the milkman!) - though only at the weekend as I was not allowed to do the Monday to Friday because of school! I know I was paid but as I spent most of the time arguing with my brother I can't remember how much!!

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Rebecca Mackenzie-Smith

In our house, every Friday was Friday-Tidy. On return from school the three of us had to spend the entire afternoon getting our bedrooms truly spotless before mum and dad got home. On inspection - and approval - by dad we would be gifted £1 (latterly £2 I think?) to buy sweets for the weekend. Every Friday, cash in hand, we'd all pile into the car and head down to the sweet shop where we'd spend ages picking and choosing various sweeties. Sylvia, the wonderful owner who still knows and chats to us all today, would then dutifully weigh out our choices into little white paper bags. They'd be guarded and monitored and nibbled at for the duration of the weekend! We didn't get any other pocket money (chores weren't rewarded in my house!) so when I fell in love with a pair of blue velvet platform shoes at age 15, costing £40!, I was told to go get a job if I really, truly wanted them. I immediately applied to Schuh, secured my Sunday job and bought the shoes with my first pay cheque and my 40% discount! So began a shoe affliction that has cost me thousands ever since...and the end of my Friday-Tidy pocket money.

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Rob Adams

We didn’t get much pocket money when we were young. We never went hungry or anything but there wasn’t a lot of money around at the best of times. Then one December the TV broke down. It was unrepairable, the man said. I told my mum and dad that I’d save up all my pocket money to help buy a new one. Mum started to cry. Dad looked distraught. “Sorry, son, we don’t have enough money to give you pocket money and Christmas presents,” he said. “So we’ll have to do without TV this Christmas.” No TV? No Morecombe & Wise? I hated that programme but it made my dad laugh. No Coronation Street Christmas Special? It was a pile of crap as well but it made mum forget her troubles for a little while and smile at the sight of Albert Tatlock toddling down to the pub to make everyone in the Rovers Return feel miserable. “There’s always someone worse off than you,” she’d say. “Look at these poor devils, drinking up and bailin’ out before Albert starts havering on about food rationing.” And here I was with no pocket money, thinking not so much about food rationing as fun rationing. And what about the news? How were we going to know what was happening in the world without a TV in these pre-Twitter, pre-Herald website days? “You’ll think of something,” dad said. So I did. Well, he did. Every night at ten o’clock he sent me out into the garden, opened the curtains and arranged the family round the window so that I could read the day’s events from the people next door’s Scotsman by the light of the lamp on a miner’s helmet he’d traded some old books for in the church jumble sale. It was, he assured me, better than the telly. All the correspondents reporting from the trouble spots and football grounds – which sometimes amounted to the same thing – looked the same. They, well, we all wore miner’s helmets and spoke with increasingly trembly voices. Because it was bloody cold out there wearing just my dad’s jacket, shirt and tie as if I – or we – were reporting from cosy studios or sunny warzones. And as December wore on the snow made it harder to pretend I had a scoop coming direct from some desert or other. Still, at least I got a round of applause at the end of the programme and it made me think about my grandad telling us how they made their own entertainment in the old days. So every year to this day I make my own entertainment at Christmas time. It’s called the Advert Calendar, because you open a door every day in December to reveal – och, you’ve beat me to it – an advertisement for something you really need to buy or go and see this Christmas. It’s here: http://www.robadamsjournalist.com/index.asp?pageid=661913 And you don’t need to part with your pocket money to see it.

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David S. Devenney

I loved pocket money day... which was always a Saturday morning when the family made the weekly trip to ‘Safeways’. I would always buy two comics, the ‘Whizzer and Chips’ and the ‘Beezer’ and some sweets, which were usually either Toffos, Sherbert Fountains or Tooty Frooties. Our pocket money was 50p, but there was one day my sister and I thought we’d hit the jackpot when our mum gave us a £5 note and told us to go to the local newsagents to buy some milk and a sweet for ourselves. We thought that meant we could spend whatever change was left and bought enough penny sweets to fill a wheelbarrow. You can imagine our mum’s face when we returned after nearly an hour of meticulous sweet-choosing!

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Thomas Michie

I got money from my parents on a Friday and I would go and buy football stickers. All the boys at primary school would have their sticker book for the season and we would trade stickers at playtime. I can remember looking out for my favourite players to put in my book, Simon Donnelly and Brian McLaughlin (God I’m getting old) in the hope of at least being able to complete the pages for my favourite team (Celtic) . I also remember the excitement of getting a “shiney” (a sticker that was sparkly lol) - these were like gold dust in the trading game. It’s funny because I then did this all again with my little boy.

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Tracey McDermid

I grew up in the West End of Greenock during the 1980’s and it was long Victorian style streets full of tenement buildings and every corner had a shop. I used to split my pocket money between different shops depending on what they sold, but my favourite was probably the Kelly Street Deli which sold the best mix-ups in the world, my favourite sweets being Chelsea Whoppers, White fish and chips and Dubble Bubble gum which had the tattoos inside! Once I had spent all of my pocket money, my brother and I would save up all the glass lemonade bottles and take them around all the corner shops for more mix-ups. If we were really lucky, we would have enough for chips and gravy from Auld’s the bakers! I also received monthly pocket money from my gran and grandad, and I used this to pay for magazine subscriptions. When I was younger, I got Twinkle, Mandy and Bunty comics delivered and then progressed onto Look-in, Smash Hits and the latest chart singles on vinyl! I was a massive A-ha fan too when I was 13, so I managed to get myself a paper round to fund my obsession with covering my bedroom walls with posters of Morten Harket!! The good old days!

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Lynn Walker

When I was 12 in 1998 I was given my very own bank card, this was exceptionally exciting as my sister who was 15 at the time had only just got one also, so I felt very grown up, she was furious!! My parents deposited £7 each week into our accounts, which as you can imagine was exceedingly frustrating as I could only withdraw £5 each week, (at this time £5 was an option at cash lines) which of course I always withdrew without fail on a Friday afternoon after school. I began with spending this money innocently on penny sweets and magazines, then would turn into a green eyed monster when my sister would buy herself fancy make up at the end of each month, which I put on when she wasn’t looking anyway…I was allowed to as long as I didn’t tell her that; our Mum was using it daily also, my sister would come screaming down the stairs to both my Mum and Dad in a rage that I had been in her room and used all her stuff again, my Dad would give me a row (totally clueless) as my Mum would gently tell me not take it again! This was a common theme for many years, not only with Make-up but with clothes and shoes too, let’s just say my sister has expensive taste - and we both took advantage. She can laugh about it now!!

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Erin Macdonald

Every Sunday we would visit my Grandparents house for a Sunday roast. The meal would consist of Scotch Broth soup, roast chicken (and assorted roast vegetables) and finished off with apple crumble, which we affectionately knew as “Scrumpchy”. Following this, my grandfather –a retired minister with fluent Gaelic tongue- would do his best to fall asleep in his armchair in the sunroom listening to acapella Gaelic church chanting (a quite haunting sound), while my father and I would hide in my grandfather’s study watching the Italian football leagues on Football Italia. However, the best was yet to come. Once my grandmother had finished the washing up, she would delve into her purse to see what pennies she had for us. Usually this would produce around 50 whole pennies for us to walk down to the local Mace convenience shop where we would get all manner of goodies in those days. I remember buying mixed bags of sweetie, fake candy cigarettes, Hubba Bubba chewing gum and a fizzy juice drink. Not only would I come away with a huge loot of sugary goodness, I would normally come away with change as well. By the time we arrived home, I was able to join in on the dying embers of a football game going on in my local village... Sunday’s weren’t half bad when I was growing up!

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Annie Lavery

Being one of six children was quite difficult when I was young -five brothers and me! My parents linked mine and all of my brothers pocket money to chores. I remember that my chores always took place on a Sunday. They usually involved preparing for, and clearing up from the family Sunday lunch. I remember sitting out on what seemed like endless long hot summer Sunday mornings on the garden step, with a bucket shelling pea pods, chopping mint, and cutting the top and tails from the gooseberries that had all been home grown in my dad’s allotment. Sunday lunches tasted so good back then, and I certainly knew that by the time I had washed and cleared away eight lots of dishes, I had certainly worked for my pocket money.

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Lucy Richards

When I was a wee girl there was a shop that my dad and I used to walk past called ‘Christie's'. We’d always stop to look at all the fancy stuff in the window – it was an old fashioned, grown up sort of tailor shop that sold country and horsey gear. The one thing that caught my eye was a black velvet riding hat with a purple silk lining. I remember the velvet was blacker and deeper than I'd ever seen – it was a luxury item! At that time my mum would give me 16p every morning for the bus fare to and from school but most days I would walk the 40 minute journey and pocket the fare to save up for that hat. It took almost a year to save enough money for the day I took my dad into Christie's for my special purchase. I remember wearing my new riding hat home, and then to bed that night to help me dream about one day owning a horse.

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Linda Christie

As an 10/11year old I had to earn my pocket money of 2 shillings per week. For that I had to clean out the fire ash pan every evening after school ( 5 days per week) and reset the fire with twisted paper ( a very skilled task) criss cross the firesticks and pile on the coal on top ready to be lit by my mother after our evening meal. Daily chores included making my own bed, dusting and drying dishes but my speciality was "cleaning the brasses". This involved a large brass large swan neck cold water tap which turned black if not polished every day and a large pull out doorbell, a brass knocker and our name plate all on the front door (polished weekly) . I had special cloths and a tin of Brasso.......I loved this chore........and still enjoy polishing things! I spent my 2 shillings (2/- or 24d.....pennies) on: 1. 6d for the Saturday morning ABC Minors (Cinema for children) 2. 6d for an Orange Maid Ice lolly at the cinema. I was in 7th heaven and still remember the "Pathe News" music clips as well as The Pearl and Dean adverts and the very loud music. Of course there was always a cartoon....The cat Sylvester and Tweetie Pie........"I tot I saw a pooty cat!" Children cheered out very loudly when " the goodies" were winning and booed even louder when "the baddies when losing! Remember we had no tele in those days ...only radio. That left me 1/- (shilling) for savings or to spend in the "sweetie shop" near school throughout the week. I could purchase a Chocolate MB Bar for 2d,(on reflection I'm sure this was like cooking chocolate), 4 Blackjack or Fruit Salad sweets for 1d, a packet of Swizzels cost 2d, a packet of Rowntrees gums were 3d(threepence) and a packet of jelly babies were 3d. A packet of Smiths Crisps with a little blue salt bag was 2d....these were always for sharing and seemed like a huge meal!!! I also bought a School Friend comic for 4d. ........I remember getting the attached School Friend annual for Christmas when I was 10! A treat was to go on the tram on a Sunday for a 1 1/2d.... It was said as "a three halfpenny half ticke". If the tram conductress liked you when you got to the terminus she let you flip all the seats upstairs so that they faced the other way and the tram just went back the way it came.......I can still smell the red leather of the seats and the smell of a wet conductress' uniform!!!! Mmmmm....... I eventually went to secondary school on the tram aged 11. A very special trip on the top of the tram was to see in December who could count the largest number of lit Christmas trees in the bay windows of flats in the city. Great entertainment for a pennyhalfpenny. I tended to spend a penny every day, bought my SF comic and saved 3d per week. This let me go to the public swimming baths once a month costing 4d to get in! This all happened in the late fifties.......those halcyon childish happy days!

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Diana Borland

In that we didn’t really get pocket money… a sad deprived Glasgow upbringing I know. haha, well that’s not quite true … I do remember asking for pocket money, so I confronted mum about it who immediately told me to speak to dad. Dad went onto explain that in order to get pocket you have to work for it. So, I asked what do I need to do? His response: clean your room, stop leaving glitter, crayons, colouring in books ,shoes and barbies lying around the place and that I should also help him more with the gardening, clearing out the garage painting etc So I said, ok it’s a deal. I do remember for a time getting 20p or it might have been 50p which went to the sweet sound of the singing Ice cream van that used to come around the estate. I would get ‘a 10p mixer’ in a poke and something like wham bar or an ice-pole. Sometimes we would get the used glass Barr bottles instead which we would exchange at the Nimbo (grocery van) or the ice-cream van for sweets. I do however remember filling up my piggy banks (childhood hobby – collecting piggy banks) so I must have got more money somehow which would often use to play cards or take our collection to the amusement arcades when we went trips down the coast to places like Ayr, Largs or Prestwick. Prestwick had the best 1p/2p slide game!!

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Richard Woods

My pocket money started in the 1970s. It began as 10p and I would keep my savings in an Elastoplast tin. I bought a lot of sweets, so the issue of the tin being quite small and therefore having limited coin capacity, never really arose. Later, my pocket money would be calculated by my age multiplied by ten. At the age of 13, I would spend much of my weekly £1.30 on vinyl records in King’s Discs in Greenford, West London. Even later, in a punky moment, I would sell many of the more old-fashioned progressive rock records at Notting Hill Record and Tape Exchange: about 10 second hand progressive rock albums would buy you one new wave record. I wish I hadn’t done that now, I’d happily give house-room to both the prog and the punk…

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Christopher Gray

It wasn't the easiest of childhoods with a single mother working all the time but one very determined woman to give her child everything that he needed in life. My mum worked a lot and my family looked after me when I was young so Pocket money was never around when I was a young child. I was born and raised in a town called Annan, I got sweets and other things but till I moved and I got older It was then I was given pocket money. The memory that I will never forget was when I was given £3 a week by my mother when I was 10 years old and I genuinely thought this was the best thing in the world! I use to run down to Hamilton shopping centre on a Saturday morning heading down to woolworths and buy a football player - back in the 90s they use to sell Corinthian footballers which where a small body and big head football player the likes of Alan shearer, dwight Yorke, Tim flowers - they where a bit like subuteo players but better! So each and every Saturday with my pocket money I spent £2.50 on a player and then buy a 50p mix up. I still have the players to this day... Not the sweets. I have 183 footballers.

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Bob Mac

I didn't know there was such a thing as pocket money when I was a child. Obviously as a teen ager I was aware but I can honestly say I do not recall ever receiving a penny in pocket money. I can also recall that while there was not a lot of money in the house we never wanted for anything. My own two children did not receive pocker money until there early teens. This was pocket money with a difference. The got a monthly allowance with was made up of pocker and clothing money. It was a reasonable amount of money and it was interesting to see how they sometimes spent most of it on clothes and other times it was spent mostly on enjoyment Cheers Bob

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Diarmaid Lawlor

My granny was full of life. She sang as she cooked. She cuddled, cajoled and created things from nothing. I liked to see her smile. On school trips, I was give some pocket money. I always bought granny something. One year I bought a bottle of green leprechaun perfume, with a little green leprechaun as the bottle cap. It looked and smelled awful. My granny put it pride of place with her collection of dinosaurs, plastic whales, rosary beads and chocolate coins. All from school trips and my pocket money. She would always smile, and listen, and cuddle and cajole. I loved being able to buy my granny something with my own money. And she always made me feel like a king. Even with my plastic leprechaun perfume!

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Joanna McCreadie

When I was wee there wasn't much money, but my mum and dad always tried to give my sister and I 'something for your pocket'. This was usually ten or twenty pence and I used to go to the shop, clutching the coin all the way. Then I used to spend ages working out how to get the most from what I had, swithering between a one or two big sweeties or a lot of small ones. Usually the small ones won. I lived near a church so we all used to supplement our pocket money by watching out for weddings. We would rush along not to see the bride but for 'the scramble' when coins were thrown and we all scrapped to grab them. I often got a lot of sweeties after a scramble!

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Maureen Macleod

When i first started getting pocket money, my world was mostly all about the village that I lived in so each week's allowance was spent at the baker's van which used to appear in our village on a Saturday morning. The change burning a hole in my pocket was soon sacrificed for treats like a fresh cream eclair. As my world expanded to occasional trips to the nearest town, Stornoway, i realised the advantages of saving some of my pocket money. Woolworths was one of the main shopping experiences in town and after buying some chart music, a celebratory pic-n-mix was in order for the journey home. As i grew older, i used to go to Glasgow on holiday most years which i saw as an incredible adventure, and my saved pocket money was spent on brightly-coloured clothing and t-shirts with funky (or so i thought) slogans in an attempt to express my teenage self. If I had any money left, it would, of course, be spent on a Woolworths pic-n-mix!

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Andy Gray

One sunny day in the middle of the school holidays a wee gang of boys (aka The Wasie Wanderers) sat next to the phone box, as usual, watching the world go by. Along came a rough looking man with a scruffy wee dog. “Does anyone want a dug?” he barked! “Naw mister” said BJ, “Naw mister” said TJ, “Naw mister” said JD, “Naw mister” said big Shannon. “Aye we’ll take him mate!” Andy exclaimed … And so begins the story of Queenie (as we named him), a scruffy wee black mongrel with beautiful big eyes. We built him a warm den in the cemi (cemetery) under the big chestnut tree. All summer we spent every spare penny we had, and collected every ginger bottle in Glasgow, to buy dog food and doggy treats. Man, that wee dug could eat! We had the best summer ever with Queenie, and then, as if by magic, just before we went back to school we went to the den in the cemi and he was gone.

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Norrie Kerr

I can’t actually remember when I started getting pocket money, it seems a life time ago (now a grumpy old man of 61 ½). It must have been when I was around 9 or 10 years old, I remember my uncle Norman (I was named after both him and my Grandpa Norman) slipping me a Florin every week when he thought no one was looking. Yes, a real whole Florin to myself, can you imagine that? Can you remember what a Florin was? Yes, of course it was sixpence short of a Half Crown. Still not ringing any bells? Well, it was two shillings, 24 pence in old money. There were 5 Florins in a pound so it was worth 20 pence in today’s money. So what did I spend my new found wealth on? Easy, comics - the Beano, the Dandy and the like, often with free gifts like flying saucers or bang making machines. Then, when I was a little older, Commando comics and even some of the exciting American comics telling tales of the original Batman and Superman. When I was old enough, I used to be allowed to take the bus into town with friends and spend hours in a comic shop that specialised in American comics. I’m sure the guy who ran it used to think we would never actually buy anything, just spend hours reading his stock, but we always did. I also remember being out on the street in front of my home at night with friends sitting under the street lamp reading each other’s comics and swapping them around till they were all read over and over again. I suppose that’s where my love of reading comes from. As a teenager the pocket money was supplemented by a paper round that helped buy records, Manfred Mann to start with then Led Zeppelin and Uriah Heep (much to the dismay of my parents). Pocket money was great and it also taught me how to budget, you still had to be able to buy the odd sweet or two from the penny tray in the local shop on a Friday before getting your pocket money on a Saturday. Even a bag of chips from the local chippie on the way home from Friday night Boys Brigade had to be saved for. My parents never let me take it for granted that if something was more than the worth of my pocket money that they would throw in a few extra pence or shillings to get me a toy. If I wanted it then I had to save up for it and amazingly that must have three or four weeks later often went completely out of my mind despite having saved up for it, did I really want it or was the latest record or book from a favourite author coming along. Fond memories of pocket money and as a fairly new Grandpa myself I’m sure it’s a topic I’ll be returning to before too long.

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Jennifer Warnock

The word pocket money evokes the memory of 10p. Yes, 10p was what I got for so many years as a little girl. It also brings back the memory of getting the pocket money - for various chores around the house - from the age of about 7 and going to the sweet shop each week with my two sisters; Mary and Susan. I don’t remember saving up that pocket money at all. It was spent, in full, at the sweet shop! I remember that you could get all sorts of sweets for 1/2p upwards and my sisters and I would enjoy getting a little, white paper bag and choosing all of our favourite sweets to fill it up. The word pocket money brings back that happy feeling of when I left the shop with these sweets and perhaps a funky pencil sharpener or springy toy that somehow was within the price band too! I think it went up to 50p by the time I was a teenager and I saved it to buy things like cassettes (pre CDs) but my happiest pocket money memories are the moments I handed over my 10p for a weekly bag of specially selected sweets.”

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Heather Grace Mackenzie

As young girls growing up on the Isle of Islay, my sister and I didn’t receive regular pocket money as there was little to spend it on. I do have a vivid memory of one day being dropped in the closest village to play at the beach with some of my friends and being given some money to buy an ice-cream. I recall the feeling of the tarmac underfoot, almost too hot to walk upon with bare feet on such a warm day, and a real sense of anticipation as, a little overheated after our frolicks on the beach, we headed up the hill to buy our Cornettos from the local Post Office. Stepping outside the shop, holding my precious purchase and peeling off first part of the outer wrapper and then the lid, my euphoria quickly turned to disgust as I realised it was rotten, and (now that I came to think about it) not even cold in my hand! The small ice-cream freezer of the Post Office had obviously been broken for some time. Rather naïve in terms of knowing our consumer rights, we didn’t even think to go back to the shop and ask for our money back, we simply shrugged our shoulders and headed back to the beach to play!

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Stella Hervey Birrell

It was always the unicorn. My sister and I passed Stewarts Newsagent on the way home from school and asked each other, ‘which ornament? If you could have any?’ I got 40p a week. So, it was just a game. Then Mum broke her arm, pulled over by the dog on a patch of ice. Everyone forgot about pocket money. For a while. But I was saving without knowing it. For weeks. I can remember going into Stewarts and instead of a penny chew or a Lion Bar, asking for the unicorn. The man behind the till unlatched the door to the window display. ‘The musical one?’ It clinked a few notes of My Favourite Things as he lifted it out. Its angelic white body, reclining on a grassy knoll shaped like a cupcake, and cultivated with painted flowers. Looking right out of place on a huge pile of Fife Heralds. In my hand it was smooth, like a pebble washed by time: comfortingly heavy. Years later, I knew my boyfriend was special when he fixed the screw that had tilted the unicorn, years before. The grassy knoll is level again, and it still plays My Favourite Things.

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Susie Williamson

Growing up in the 80's, I did receive pocket money from my parents but it was kept deliberately low to offer me some incentive to top it up by doing chores around the house. This instilled some sort of work ethic, I think, because when I spotted an advert in the local paper looking for people to take on delivery rounds for the town’s free newspaper I duly signed up thinking I’d make a fortune – I was ten! The going rate was one pence per paper - even in the 1980's, that was a fairly low salary. I was a bit taken aback when the following week I was brought 400 papers and a delivery bag, and was then given a round that covered dozens of streets of two-ups/two-downs and high-rise flats! However I did that paper round for two years to earn £4 a week pocket money, spent on sweets to give me the energy to climb all those stairs!

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Julian Reeves

As a child I could never save my pocket money - I was always being told that 'money burned a hole in my pocket'. Back in the swinging sixties I remember one very hot summer when my pocket money was rationed to just 'thruppence' a day. That's the pre-decimilasation equivalent of just over 1p. But, believe it or not, back then that would buy you a standard fruit-flavoured iced-lolly on a stick. Basically a frozen artificially flavoured acid and sugar solution guaranteed to keep the school dentist in business. But on a hot day, lovely. But... what I really wanted a 'Zoom' iced-lolly. This was a THREE-flavoured rocket-shaped concoction inspired by the science fiction tv shows that were all the rage at the time. The problem was, a Zoom cost sixpence - two days' pocket money! Could I save up for a whole day so I could afford one? No, of course I couldn't. Could I convince my grand-mother - the holder of the magic purse strings to advance me two day's pocket money? No, of course I couldn't. Did I get my Zoom? No, of course I didn't. Am I bitter and twisted as a result of being taught fiscal control at such a tender age? You bet I am!

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Woody

When I was little, my sister and I would get 50p pocket money a week. We would walk to the corner shop with it to buy sweets. I would buy 20p worth of sweets (you could get a lot for 20p in the 80's) and save 30p. My sister would spend all of her 50 pence. She could never understand why I always had more money than her.

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Dara King

I didn’t get regular pocket money as such but my mum would quite often give me money to go ice skating or buy sweeties. One time I asked my dad for money to buy revision books for my school exams – “everyone else’s parents are buying their books for them, dad”. He gave me £20 and off I went, cheerily into town. I went to Ottakar's bookshop and handed the man my folded up £20 note which he proceeded to open out revealing one side completely blank, save for the word ‘gotcha’. I was mortified! I got home in a huff and my dad couldn’t contain his laughter… he was sure I’d realise before I got to the shop since he had shown me the note a few nights before and he wasn’t known for giving money out willy-nilly!

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Dave King, StudioLR Designer

When I was young I formed a worker’s union with my two sisters and managed to negotiate some pocket money for drying the dishes after tea each night. Before we struck that game-changing deal though, the closest I got to pocket money was to count all the coppers in the house. My mum had two black ceramic piggy banks full of ones and twos and my dad had a giant whisky bottle that he put his change in every day – that’s where the real money was to be made (it had 5ps in it too). Every six months or so I’d empty all the banks, count the money into wee piles, bag them up into £1 bank bags, and my folks would let me do what I wanted with the money. My best haul was £13 one time, which I took straight to Woolies and spent on a Meat Loaf Live VHS. I always remember how nice the woman behind the counter was to me even though she had to count out 13 quid in coppers.

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Mark Wheeler

There was a time when you had half pennies, pound notes and the imminent launch of the new hexagonal twenty pence coin! For a child who’d only just grasped coin values, and that they were all round, this was like the dawn of a new age – an age with curves AND corners. Along with the launch they sold perspex collection tubes and i became obsessed with collecting these shiny (and they were all shiny) new coins and watching them stack up, passing each landmark value etched into a neat wooden holder. The joy of collecting far outweighed the eventual spending of my hoard, not sure what that says about me. Nothing good I suspect.

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Lorna Reid

When I was 8 years old, I saved up my pocket money to buy my family Christmas presents. I remember bursting with pride as they each took a turn to open their carefully, wrapped gift. But what I remember most, was the joy expressed by my Gaga (Grandfather) when he opened up his tiny parcel. Of course, he took forever to open it! Which just added even more to my excitement. Inside was a dark green pencil sharpener and a brown pair of shoes laces. He said “This is the finest present I have ever had”. And the best thing is, I know he meant it. A reminder that the wee things in life are important.

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Bryan Burnett

Thinking about it now, the pocket money my parents gave us wasn't massive as we were not a well off family. We were probably too young to appreciate the fact that mum and dad were missing out on something they needed in order to make sure my brother and I were able to treat ourselves every week. Regardless of how much pocket money we had I was determined to get the most out of it. I was a very good budgeter! A comic was priority for me and Beano day was always the highlight of the week for me. (Mind you my young self had no idea that my first job would be for Beano publishers DC Thomson!) I was never into buying sweeties as mostly I wanted to put my pocket money towards buying singles. As I had no older brothers and sisters the only music in the house was my parent’s Sydney Devine albums so it was a thrill to buy our own records. I spent every Saturday lunchtime in Woollies at Mastrick Shopping Centre deciding what single I was going to buy. I’d prefer to say it was something punky and cool but was more likely to be Abba. Up until then the only single I had was Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep which my Granny had bought me on a day trip to Fraserborough so anything else was going to be way more credible. For kids nowadays who are used to streaming music for free online it must be hard to imagine just how precious it was having a 7” single that you’d saved up money for and could listen to hundreds of times without ever getting bored!

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