1976: Summer of Nostalgia

 

Part Two: Sunday in Old Books

At the same time that ITV was rolling out some vintage series on Saturday evenings, I was about to discover a veritable treasure trove of nostalgic items in the form of old books. I’d been casually collecting old paperbacks and annuals for a couple of years, focusing on out of print TV tie-in editions, most notably NEL/Four Square’s series of Man From UNCLE paperbacks that had appeared in the late 1960s. This was, essentially, TV nostalgia in print form.

Early in 1976, I’d sent away for a book collector magazine, an amateur publication printed, if memory serves, on a spirit duplicator or photocopier of some kind. It served as a shop window for vintage book dealers, ranging from the seriously academic to purveyors of old junk. It was this latter category that most interested me, and I scoured the pages in search of old bookshops that I’d not yet discovered and were within striking distance of where we lived, in Sutton Coldfield. One dull Saturday morning, I persuaded our dad to drive me and my brother to Burton on Trent, a place I’d never visited before, where there were two old booksellers that I wanted to check out.

The town was still largely given over to the brewing industry, and I was surprised at the number of dour red brick edifices that comprised the Bass site and its associated clerical offices. One of the booksellers was based in the town centre, and split its operations between contemporary, remaindered books in the front of the shop, and older editions in the back. But we drew a blank here. There wasn’t much else to be found from the other bookshop, which was located in a ramshackle single storey building at the foot of Bearwood Hill Road. From here, I picked up a number of Bonanza annuals and, on a later visit, a tatty Z Cars annual and (of course) a Man From UNCLE paperback. But the really big discovery was to come in late June.

The legendary hot summer had already kicked off, and the weather was brilliantly sunny all day. Once again, I’d had to prevail upon our dad to drive us to the place I’d heard about, as there was no other means of getting there. Our destination was a small antique shop in the village of Burntwood, near Lichfield. What made this particular expedition special was the day of the week: Sunday. Aside from petrol stations, newsagents and the odd garden centre, no retailer opened for business on a Sunday. Not so Royden Smith, whose antique shop kept unusual hours.

The front room in the shop was cluttered with spinning wheels, china, oil lamps and other country cottage nick nacks. No sign of any books. The shop was presided over by a couple of dapper gents who might have stepped out of a 1950s Ealing film. We were warmly welcomed and, once we’d explained what we’d come for were directed to the rear of the shop where a small conservatory opened into a yard surrounded by stable buildings. The yard behind the shop was dotted with old cartwheels, water pumps and garden furniture. Warm somnolent silence hung over the scene, dust motes dancing in rays of sunlight as we stepped into the nearest of the stable blocks. We found ourselves entering a veritable Tutankhamen’s tomb of old childrens' books, some examples dating back to the 1940s. Annuals were numerous, shelved and piled everywhere you looked. It was clear that the shop had never been discovered by anyone with an interest in old television. Within a few minutes, I’d picked up the first Man From UNCLE annual, two Z Cars annuals, a Saint annual and a Stingray annual. My brother picked up the paperback Stingray and the Monster, exceptionally rare even then, which we’d never set eyes on before. Alongside these came paperbacks of The Persuaders (book three), two Avengers titles and a very rare book of script adaptations from the 1960s Likely Lads series. Staggering under the weight of them all, we went back into the shop where the proprietor, Mr. Smith totted it all up. I don’t think he wanted more than ten or twenty pence for any individual item, and in total our haul came in at well under £5.

It was to be the first of many such expeditions, but of course it wasn’t the kind of place you could visit too often: you had to allow time for new stock to come in, and for the first year or more I remember seeing many of the same items (a Wagon Train annual for instance) still on the shelves. But as my interests moved into other areas, I was able to pick up items I’d not have noticed earlier, like an omnibus edition of Colin Watson’s Flaxborough novels, some of which were serialised on BBC2 in 1977. Mr. Smith and his partner Ken Hayward soon got to know us on sight, and there was always a friendly welcome whenever we showed up. 

Some days stay with you forever, and for me, Sunday 27 June 1976 is one of them – the balmy weather, the brilliant blue sky, the drowsy silence of those empty old barns piled high with books. Nothing would ever quite equal the thrill of entering and realising what we’d stumbled upon, coupled with the excitement of not knowing what vintage item you were going to turn up next. Our finds may have been trivial, but to us back then, this was a genuine treasure trove, the kind of thing one usually finds only in dreams.

I soon had to get new shelves in my bedroom to accommodate the books I was amassing, and today I still own every one of the items we found on that miraculous Sunday half a century ago.

Sadly, the antique and bookshop has long since closed. My last visit was on a Saturday afternoon around 25 years ago. Royden Smith, who had lived in Burntwood all his life, eventually turned the place into a B&B establishment, which earned some glowing reviews on TripAdvisor, but is now listed online as ‘permanently closed’. Some Googling reveals that the shop had formerly been a grocery, seemingly run by Royden or his family. Royden had replied to a message on a facebook group back in 2019 confirming that both he and Ken were still alive, with Ken about to turn 87. Ken lived to the age of 94, and died in November of last year. Although it was never stated openly in all the time I visited the shop, they were clearly a gay couple: the first I’d ever met.

Their shop may be closed, but it still looks exactly as it did back in 1976, and the barns at the back were still intact when Google’s streetview car last visited in September 2025.

Royden Smith's former antique shop, seen in 2025: the book barn is the building on the left