Goodbye, Mr. Chips

It was a sad day when the chip shop at the end of our road closed. It had been there for at least 30 years from my memory, maybe longer. Strangely enough, I actually lived in this very same road when I was a child. My Mum used to see me across the road and then after I’d got our fish and chips I’d wait by the lamppost for my Mum to see me back across the road again.

The little row of shops that has stood there for so long is now being knocked down, to make room for more flats.

“I forgot to get a loaf of bread when I popped out for loo roll last night” I said to my Mum on the phone today.
“Can’t you just nip to that shop?” she asked.
“What shop?” I asked, confused.
“The shop at the end of your road” she replied.
“Mum, that shop hasn’t been there for the whole time I’ve lived here, and I’ve been here for 10 years in August!” I replied.

My Mum’s often a bit scatty, but where on earth has she been for the past 10 years?

“I’d heard that the chip shop was closed, but I didn’t know the shop had closed as well” she said.
“Mum, that shop hasn’t been open the whole time I’ve lived here!” I laughed. “They’re knocking that row of shops down now to build flats” I continued. “Anyway, was the chip shop run by an Italian family when I was a kid?” I asked.
“No, it was an Indian family. Don’t you remember the shop?” she replied.
“The chip shop?”
“Don’t you remember it?” she asked again.
“The chip shop Mum. Not the shop. The chippy”
“Oh I thought you meant the shop”

Blimey, it’s like visiting an old peoples home. I wouldn’t mind, but she’s only 57.

“You could do with a shop there really” she continued.
“Well, I know, but it isn’t going to happen now is it? They’re knocking it down!” I swear she’s a few chips short of a bag herself sometimes, bless her.
“I know; it’s a shame…”