Yesterday I wandered into a small gift shop in a small strip near home, that's outpaced by adjacent suburbs but still tries to maintain a sense of life and self-sufficiency. I'd noticed it on the way home in a friend's car the other day, and figured I should do the "local lad" thing and pay it a visit. You walk slowly through these kinds of shops - every surface is loaded with objects, and there's a half (or maybe two-thirds)-light that lingers amongst the wood and cloth. I bought a "cat repair kit" for my sister (one for each cat), and a couple of cards for upcoming birthdays. "oh, sorry, we were just having our regular saturday fish and chips," the lady said, leading me back down to the front of the store, where the cash register was. "have you tried the place just down the street ? it's wonderful." "no, I haven't. I haven't had fish and chips for months, actually." "mm, it's a bit unhealthy." "yeah, every time I think about having it, I end up deciding I should probably have something else instead..." I wasn't sure if she was talking about the "black sea takeaway", which looked fairly intriguing, but that'll have to wait for my next visit to these parts.