Junk that we used to eat

I'm afraid I have not written anything these last few days, but the weather has been so lovely, and I have been catching up with all the gardening jobs.
Freedom was something that my generation had plenty of, even if we didn't have nearly as much in material things as today's children. I started to make little forays to the local playground on my own when I could not have been older than five or six. Yes I really was so young that I hadn't yet acquired the knack of consuming unmessily either penny ice-lollies or sticks of chewing-gum. I remember walking home one hot summer's evening from Camden Gardens, where I had been playing, with my hands and face, not to mention my clothes, all stuck up with sticky, grey strings of what had once been a piece of chewing gum, or on another occasion, with the front of my dress soaked with orange ice-lolly effluent.
I started childhood being a parent's dream as far as sweets were concerned. I didn't like them. And I didn't much care for chocolate either, and I only liked ice cream if it was a cylindrical type, that fitted on top of a cornet. I wouldn't touch oblong-shaped ice cream, which was the only kind you could buy in Regent's Park. As for fizzy drinks, I wouldn't touch them.
But by the time I was eight or so, all that had changed. I had graduated with honours into the land of teeth-rotting junk that children loved and still do. The only difference being between us and the children of today is that our pocket money was strictly limited and usually, when it was gone, that was it for the week. There was a Beech-Nut chewing gum vending machine on my way home from Junior school, and every time I passed it I used to try the handle, just in case, as actually did happen once or twice, that someone had forgotten about the free one that it gave out every fourth time the machine was used.
When I think of all the E-numbers and other additives, not to mention excess sugar that were in the sweets, ices and fizzy drinks that we all loved so much, it is a wonder that we weren't all hyperactive. Or perhaps we were, but because we had ample opportunity to burn off our excess energy, nobody ever noticed. Of course, some kids were slower at school than others, but I never remember anyone being diagnosed with hyperactivity. It was an unknown concept in those days.
In spite of my early very negative experience with ice-lollies, I came to love them. We could get teddy bear ice lollies in three different sizes, depending on whether you wanted to spend a penny, two pence or a whole (I believe) twelve-sided threepenny bit with a portcullis on the back of it. Tizer was our favourite beverage. It used to come in large, heavy glass bottles which had to be returned if you wanted your two or three penny deposit back. Our group used to club together to buy a bottle, then pass it round like a pipe of peace, everyone taking a swig, until the ambrosia was gone and the bottle was empty.
We were an unhygienic lot really, but we believed in sharing. If one of us had an ice-lolly and the others didn't, we were all granted at least one lick. 'Only a lick mind. Not a bite!' Were the usual instructions given. With gob-stoppers we took it in turns to have a suck. The rules were, that when you got to a new colour, you had to pass it on. Do those huge round sweets, that seemed almost as big as golf-balls, still exist? They used to cost a penny each, so it was just as well they lasted a long time. With sherbert, we were all given a small heap in our dirty palms, which we proceeded to lick with relish, enjoying the exquisite fizzing sensation on the end of our tongues. When we had finished the last morsel, we would discover that the middle of our palm was considerably cleaner than the rest of our hand, even if still somewhat sticky.
Palm toffee was a challenge. It was so hard that an electric drill would not have made much impression on it, and breaking it into bits small enough to get into our mouths, was not a task for the faint-hearted. Throwing a heavy brick on the rectangular bar worked too well, as half of it would be smashed to smitherines. We found hitting it against the corner of a wall or a post while still holding it flat in your hand worked best. But even then it took at least ten minutesof concentrated hard chewing until the postage-stamp sized piece became soft enough to really enjoy. No wonder I had to go to the dentist so often!
Back then, nobody thought anything of it when we bought fairly realistic packets of sugar cigarettes which we proceeded to 'smoke' imitating the adults we saw in the films. Such attitudes would be unthinkablein this day and age - getting children into bad habits, and so on. But on the other hand, a packet of crisps was a bit of a luxury. I really only remember having crisps during visits to Southend-on-Sea. They would be no particular flavour. They would just be Smith's Crisps, and have a little twist of blue paper at the bottom of the packet containing salt, which you sprinkled on the crisps.
As for chewing gum; that gave way to big blobs of pink bubble-gum, which we used to chew with relish until all the sugar had gone, then we used to get down to some serious bubble practice. I was never the street champion, though it wasn't through lack of practice, whenever I was outside. I wasn't allowed the stuff at home. I can hear my mother now "Josephine - put that disgusting stuff in the dirt pail, and don't let me see you with it again." It was very sad having to throw a perfectly good piece of bubble gum away, with hours of useful chewing life still left in it, so I decided that it was not worth the hassle, to chew gum at home. Ditto with school. They were very strict about it in those days, at least as strict as the drugs control at Bankok airport, and we feared the inevitable sanctions just as much. It was by far the easier option to smuggle in the occasional packet of Spangles or Fruit Gums, or even in desperate times, suck a button, which we also generously passed round,to relieve the boredom of sewing lessons and suchlike.