Geoffrey just swooped in again, in an even worse tizz. On top of everything else, he just heard that Somerfield is being taken over by the Co-op. I have to say this puts us in a bit of a bad position viz a viz our regular supply of fishfingers, as we have been accustomed to purchasing these at Somerfield. We have NO idea what the Co-op have in the way of frozen fish products, and it has, in short, thrown us completely.
"Fish fingers at one, tomorrow, then?" I said, unable to disguise the tremor in my voice as I realised it could be the last time we ate THAT type of snack together. A snack - no, far more than a mere snack - it was a ritual. The buttering of the thinly sliced loaf. The shaking of the sauce bottle. The heating of the grill to just the right temperature. Could the Co-op possibly reach the dizzy heights of Somerfield, in the fish finger department?
Geoffrey's reply was lost as he soared towards the sinking sun - but I was sure he'd be there.
No comments:
Post a Comment