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.