From love at first sight to a mummified mouse - the Derbyshire shop that has everything

Clay Cross DIY is a characterful shop, well known in the area.

Run by David and Anne Jones for nearly 40 years, it’s a go-to place for anything and everything. Homewares, tools, flowers, paint, doormats, timber, plant-pots, cables, compost, screws, glue, door signs, bird feeders, walking sticks, ironing boards - the list is quite possibly, endless. But what folk might not know, is how they began.

Anne, 62, tells the story of her 16-year-old self, out shopping with her dad in Wakefield, “looking for a greenhouse. I certainly wasn’t looking for love.”

She laughs as she tells this, as do the ladies that work in the shop with her, Anjie Carpenter, Helen Allen and Emma Bellamy, knowing what is to come. “Me and my dad were in Howarth Timber, in the garden centre, and we were approached by David, who was selling furniture upstairs… and his words were: ‘Don’t leave the building until you view my furniture department.’”

The sound of laughter ripples through the shop, even customers stopping their browsing to listen. “So we went up and looked around, and my dad purchased several pieces of furniture that David offered to deliver, and the rest is history.”

“I saw her on the closed circuit telly,” laughs David, 65. Anne said: “And you told someone you were going to marry me”. David nods, “Aye”.

From love at first sight to steady steps of business savvy and hard work, Clay Cross DIY has a notable history.

David was originally based in Barnsley, Anne in Ackworth, and from there they have had three furniture shops, David managing the iconic T Greaves furniture store in Chesterfield for a while. Their first DIY store was based on Bridge Street in Clay Cross in the eighties, a business that saw a move to Eyre Street after two decades, and then fifteen years ago, onto Market Street where it stands today.

And what stands out about this shop is how much is in here. Imagine a DIY superstore inside a grocery shop. David explains the principle of stock: “When we first started, the sales were very poor.” Which, he says, led to an action based on what was being sought by customers: “In a period of eight weeks, we found that instead of serving 40 per cent of the customers, we were serving about 75 per cent of the customers and that increased as time went on.” Anne added: “We’re up to about 99 per cent now.”

When asked how they fit everything into the shop, a voice calls out from behind a rack of slug pellets and Christmas decorations: “They shout Anjie! We’ve got these! Make me a space!”

Laughter fills the aisles again, as Anjie, who has worked at the shop for 27 years peeks from behind the rack, an impish grin as Anne and David nod: “Yep”.

David and Anne don’t want the customer going without, a customer who is highly likely somebody they know. This certainly feels reflected in the pricing, particularly at these given times.

David said: “We’ve got the flexibility to hunt round various wholesalers, suppliers, manufacturers, because we will buy the quantity. If you go to a manufacturer, they don’t want little orders, so even if the stock is two or three thousand pounds, we’ll buy it, because that keeps the price down…and it keeps the prices down for the customer.”

And here is a pause in the talking as a lady puts a bunch of flowers down on the counter. Emma, one of the shop girls carefully bundles them together, as the lady says they’re for the churchyard, for her brothers and husband, all lost in the last couple of years. Here in these few minutes, is something very special. An example of what makes a local business more about its place in the community than that of a tool of profit. Conversation is had. The lady is handed her flowers, given her change, and smiles to an exchange of goodbyes… see you later.

“We listen,” says Anne, “it’s a community… sometimes there’s tears…” She pauses, smiling softly, “and not just from me”.

We change the subject, the question asked is what’s the weirdest thing Anne has seen in all her years at Clay Cross DIY. “A mummified mouse stuck to a length of cable.” The shop fills with laughter. “I asked him, where did the cable come from? From behind my cooker, he said.”

And the most difficult customer? Anne thinks about this for a moment, smiles, and tells a story about a man whose varnished door had gone purple because he’d not stirred the varnish or prepped the door, “and he asked me what was I going to do about it… because now it’s raining!”

Going that extra mile, quite literally, is another part of this business. David delivering items to his customers for no extra charge with a small minimum spend, something that has been at the bones of Clay Cross DIY from the start. This was a big thing in lockdown, David said, many people reaching out to them for necessaries: “Working until half nine at night, delivering… it was crazy, people couldn’t get out.” But, this saw more people discovering the shop.

“We’re very grateful for the people that come and spend with us, and that’s why it's not a problem to give the service we give,” says David, nodding. Anne agrees. “When people say they couldn’t do without us, that’s very warming. And we get new people in every day now, which didn’t used to happen.”

An elderly man walks up to the counter, asks for a battery for his watch. Unasked, David slides a small tool-bag from under the counter, takes the watch from the customer, and fits the new battery for him, no charge. The man smiles, says “Ta, see you soon”. And you just know he will.

“We’ll carry on doing the same, we don’t want anything bigger,” says David. Anjie, Helen and Emma say they’re staying here, because it feels like family. “Every day is a different day. You definitely don’t get bored, and the community has kept us here, absolutely,” says Anne.