Alan Hartley, the man behind AE Hartley & Son, reflects on a remarkable journey that began when he was just a teenager. Initially, his sights were set on a career in engineering, but his passion for entrepreneurship soon directed him toward running his own mobile fruit and vegetable store. “I had a chat with my parents and the council about my options,” Alan recalls. In November 1960, at just 19, he took the plunge by securing an empty unit in what would later be known as the Gaunt Shopping Centre. His aspirations came to fruition, not on wheels but in a brick-and-mortar shop that would become a local staple.
Fast forward 64 years, and on a recent Friday, Alan, now 83, lowered the shop’s shutter for the last time. As he surveyed the evolving landscape around the shop, he reminisced, saying, “We’d be looking at a field now, not a big brick wall at the back of a chemist. The view was definitely better then.”
Inside the shop, three generations of the Hartley family, clad in matching blue fleeces, shared memories over the years spent selling everything from butter to toothpaste. With customers streamlining through the door, many offered their well wishes, some with tearful goodbyes. “We’ve had tears from several customers. I’m saving mine for a bit,” Janet, Alan’s 89-year-old sister and an integral part of the business, chimed in with a smile. She left a stable job in insurance to join Alan in the shop, where the tight-knit family dynamic proved to be their strength.
In the early days, the store, named after Alan’s father, focused primarily on fresh produce. “Potatoes would arrive in huge wooden crates, and we had to lug them up from the cellar,” Alan’s eldest son Lee, now 51, remembers. “In the early 60s, people weren’t eating rice and pasta, so we sold tons of spuds.” A few years in, Alan recognized the toll it was taking on him and invested in a conveyor belt, which still runs today. Lee is even considering donating it to a local museum.
As the years passed, the shop adapted to changing consumer preferences while keeping its traditions alive, along with their famous locally sourced eggs. “I remember when the energy drinks first arrived. We didn’t know where to put that giant fridge,” Janet reflected, wistfully recalling when they used to sell old glass bottles of Tizer and Dandelion and Burdock. “People shop differently these days. They just don’t shop local anymore.”
Lee took over day-to-day operations in the 1990s, acknowledging that survival came down to adaptability. “When the supermarkets became more popular, we had to diversify—stocking items that customers needed,” he stated, noting the transition from raw produce to a stock of greeting cards and party supplies. Yet some traditions remain—a nostalgic nod to their heritage, as customers can still purchase eggs individually and even return old egg boxes.
Regulars like Sue Denton, who has frequented the shop for 40 years, expressed her dismay at its closure. “It feels like family here. I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” she lamented while buying some sharon fruit, a new addition to the shop’s inventory. Mick Pearson, another loyal customer, humorously remarked, “I come in to be abused. I’m going to starve when they close.”
The younger generation, Amy and Jamie, both part of the family business, lightened the mood by sharing anecdotes about their upbringing in the shop, reminiscing about childhood memories surrounded by the unique charm of their grandfather’s legacy. “There’s a photo of me as a baby in the sweetie weighing scales,” Jamie joked.
Despite the sentimental farewell, Alan remains optimistic about the future. He and his wife Pat plan to explore new horizons during their retirement, although he admits, “I’ll miss the customers so much. They’re more like friends.” As AE Hartley & Son closes its doors, the legacy of family, community, and adaptability will forever echo in its cherished memories.
