Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Yet another English institution I recall fondly from childhood, and which I'm happy to say I lived with a lot in Victoria, BC, that little outpost of Ye Oldie Englandie, is the chippy. The Fish n' Chip shop.
Usually without seating or the slightest pretentions to "frills" and about the last place in the world you'd find anything resembling a "latte" or any kind of pretentious $5 coffee, the chippy probably keeps more British people alive than the NHS ever dreamed.
Went to one of the ones in Whitchurch today. Got me a slab of battered fish and a stick of crispy battered mushrooms, with about half a bottle of brown vinegar, for about 3 quid.
It was great.
And as soon as All Good Things are restored, and 'Elf n' Safety's goons are suitably accommodated at Her Majesty's Pleasure, I'm sure we can get rid of the styrofoam boxes and go back to wrapping them in newspaper, as God intended.
Glad we don't have one in the village or it would not be long before I no longer fit into my tweed church-going jackets.