I WALKED to Queen’s Arcade in Hastings centre to shop.
I was tempted by some fresh turbot, but it was expensive. Paul’s Young Man (PYM) offered me a special deal, then boned it expertly for me on the spot.
Alice served me with fruit and veg and showed me her nails (polka-dot last, orange this, week). Gary was about to close (he’d been in the shop since 6am) and had no stock on show. He reminded me I had promised several times not to come in so late, trotted willingly downstairs to his fridge to get me just one pork chop, turned on his scales and till again, and sold me the one item (“no problem”).
That night I could not find the fish so I went back the next day. Alice had seen the fish on her counter, wondered whose it was,
and sensibly handed it to PYM who put it in his fridge. We all laughed at my forgetfulness and I had a delicious supper later.
What supermarket could give such friendly, personal and special service to an old dodderer as do these family-run local shops?