The fence between Mr & Mrs JG’s back garden and that of Mr & Mrs CJ has not yet been repaired.
At Bert’s, the little silver hatchback was parked on the left side of the forecourt. In the middle of the forecourt, but further from the shop, there was a maroon pickup truck with two doors each side rather than one. To the right of the shop, a man and a woman were eating their fish and chips — you don’t often see that at Bert’s. A man was at the front of the queue, and a woman in her late thirties was behind him; I was the third customer. Two or three other customers arrived subsequently.
Only the women were to be seen behind the counter when I arrived, but then Junior appeared from the back room, and finally Bert. I was able to take a good look at the men’s faces; there is no doubt a family resemblance, but it is not a close resemblance. Tall Woman served me; I paid her with a ten-pound note and the change she had given me on 24 September.
We had to wait for the food to be cooked.
The woman who was ahead of me left the shop with her food, and climbed into the passenger seat of a big white van with a business logo and contact details on the side. Customers at Bert’s don’t usually park at the kerb in front of the shop.
When I left, the couple who had been standing to the right of the shop were still there, and still eating. The woman had put her hood up, as the weather had changed from damp to drizzling.
The portion of fish looked small, but it turned out to be a solid slab of delicious cod. The peas were above-average, too.
That evening, I heard fireworks for the first time in autumn 2011. It is only four weeks until Bonfire Night.
[Original posting 8 October 2012]