I’m staying at obi’s place here in 커레오 and popped down to the local fish n chip shop this evening. Eventhough he was serving someone else he called out to me, “Ow are you sir?” and I could tell that without knowing him, I knew this man. The small talk with customers. The stocky build and bushy grey/black eyebrows. “Chicken salt or normal salt?” His wife silently co-piloted the regulation-sized deep fryer.
For some time I sat in the row of chairs by the magazines and wondered if I had not infact seen this pair in some other fish n chip shop at some previous point in time, now long buried in the folds of memory.
Perhaps they had grown weary of the
yupcalcified patronage in an area like chilwell or mani heights/g.west. They had sold up and moved to the new frontier and come in search of new (old) challenges. They found a broken shop, one that family after family failed at. The kind of shop that some would say was cursed. But they’d taken it off someone’s hands, applied the spit, polish, the system and just a little magic. It slowly grew back. Customers began making repeat visits without realising it.
“Still raining out there?”
“Yeah just a little.”