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Me too Momma, my dad said when we wanted fizzy pop, to go to the tap and have corporation pop instead, this was the man who used orange squash with milk for milkshakes, yucky indeed.
Ours had a flat bed barrow and a trumpet to announce his presence in the street. A balloon for old clothes dont' think kids these days would be interested? This also lead to the local phrase "bent as a rag-mans trumpet" to depict gay people!
Are they still called Rag and bone men nowadays? they usually drive round in open back lorries these days don't they, and its scrap iron they collect usually.
our rag and bone man started out out with a horse and cart and progressed to a flat be d van. Then similarly one day just stopped coming. I'm sure when he first started he actually DID shout Rag and Bone man but oner the years it just turned into a long moan that started low and ended like a kind of yelp. He used to come along in the moring at about 10 when I was watching jamie and the Magic torch with my Mum, (before I was school age)
I loved running out to see the Rag 'n' bone man. You'd hear him first, in the distance, with his long, drawn-out cry. More like "Raa-ooooone". Then I'd dash out to see his horse. This was encouraged by my mam (free entertainment...the type 70s mams used to love most). The rag 'n' bone man just stopped coming one day.
Other things I ran out to see in the seventies were... The election vans with the loudspeakers on top, urging you to vote this or that. Low flying aeroplanes. The ice cream man, to beg him for a free wafer. The windowcleaner (easily impressed, wasn't I?).
Oh, and Bernard Mannings' large American cars (he didn't live too far away).
And (only on January 1st), the man with as many noses as there are days in the year.
Yep, didn't cost my mam a penny in entertainment, so gullible was I.
I remember one coming around once a week as a kid in South London, big old horse with a large flat bed cart behind, ringing a big hand bell shouting "Rag n Bone", He always seemed to be full up, with all sorts of stuff.
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