It was the ultimate childhood fantasy – to end up spending your days in a sweet factory.

But it became a reality for the men and women who were lucky enough to work at the famous Trebor Sharps plant in Maidstone. Keely Greenwood went to meet them…

After growing up with the story of Willy Wonka, who can truly say they never dreamt of getting the chance to ride along a chocolate river or taste an everlasting gobstopper?

In fact, just being allowed walk to the local shop and on a Saturday choosing from the vast selection of jars stacked on the shelves for my weekly supply of a quarter of sweets was a treat for me.

So imagine how amazing it must have been for the lucky people who actually got to spend every day in Kent’s very own sugary Shangri-La, and get paid for it.

The Trebor Sharps Factory in St Peter’s Street, Maidstone closed in 2000, but the peppermint smell that famously wafted from its chimneys is still remembered fondly by those who lived in or visited the area during the 128 years it was open.

So is the joy of working in its four walls. Some of its lucky employees, now well into retirement, got together to reminisce.

Tarrina (Taz) Miller and author of The Trebor Story, Matthew Crampton, enjoyed a trip down memory lane when they went to visit four ex-workers who now live together at Maplewood Court Care Home in Northumberland Road in the town.

Armed with a paper bag of the company’s famous delights and some toffee-flavoured liqueur, the pair joined the care home residents in talking about their favourite memories from their years working at the factory.

Taz Miller remembered feeling she had won the golden ticket when she joined the new product development lab at the factory as part of her Youth Training Scheme.

She said hers was the best job in the world.

“I had been given the opportunity to work in a sweet factory. It could not have been better,” she told the residents. “It was the most brilliant experience.”

She remembered being allowed to experiment with ideas to create new products.

“We were allowed to try things,” she said. “We would drop an apple flavour in or try a green colour in a sweet, or maybe add different oils in the process or add sherbert into a sweet.”

Taz, who worked at the factory for 18 months, said she still remembers the smell.

“I would get off at Archbishop’s Palace and you could just smell the smells. I could not have been happier as I headed off for a day of making sweets.”

She remembered one time when she snuck some chocolate buttons into her lab coat pocket and ended up getting in an awful mess.

“I was leaning over a hot table where the sweets are made and all the chocolate melted,” she said.

And the residents agreed, reminiscing about being allowed to go to the shop at home-time on a Friday and paying 10 shillings for a two kilo bag filled with reject sweets.

Iris Cook is 94 years old but she remembers clearly her role on the factory floor.

“My job was to weigh the sweets, put them in a tin and wrap sellotape around the top.

“I had to put my name on each tin I weighed so if there was a mistake they knew it was me.”

And she says while you were allowed to help yourself to the sweets on your section, if you took a treat from another area it was an automatic firing offence.

“You had to wear different coloured hats so they knew which department you were from,” she said. “If you were caught with a chocolate in your pocket and you were from the toffee section, you’d be fired.

“Green hats were in the sweets section; brown hats in the chocolate section.”

And she remembered it could be a dangerous job as her mother, who also worked at the factory, found.

“There was a machine which used to come down and chop the toffee into shapes. It came down on this man’s hand and there was blood spurting everywhere.

“My mum went to help him and got blood all over her shirt. All they said was she had to go home and get changed.”

Iris remembers being in charge of putting the flowers around the edge of the factory’s famous Easter eggs.

“We made one for the Queen every year too,” she said.

Most famous for its toffee and famous mascot Sir Creamy Nut, the factory was opened by Sir Edward Sharp in 1872.

It was also known for its array of tins in all shapes and sizes.

Eunice Arington, 90, worked as a secretary for the sales director for 20 years.

“It was a nice atmosphere,” she said. “You could always smell the oil from the peppermint, even when you were walking outside, depending which way the wind was blowing.”

While Reg Leonard-Wright, 97, was an engineer who worked his whole life maintaining the machines at the factory.

“It was a lovely job,” he said. “Everyone was very friendly. You could always smell the sugar and the mint.”

And he has another memory too.

“The men who were making the toffee were always so sweaty because of the hot table where they made the toffee,” he recalled.

As well as much singing and regaling of factory tales, the care home residents also took part in a quiz where they had to guess the factory’s most famous exports – including Refreshers, Parma Violets and Black Jacks – just from their wrappers.

Do you have any memories of the Trebor factory? Email us at messengernews@thekmgroup.co.uk