Malmesbury, the town that taste forgot, is the closest thing we have to
a commercial centre, although I use the term ‘commercial centre’ loosely. It’s
seldom that anyone from our valley returns from a trip to Malmesbury – where we
have to go for medicines, since there’s no pharmacy in either of our twin
villages; and periodically for supplies, since both our retail outlets (again,
a term loosely used) make up in expense for what they lack in stock – without their lives having been considerably shortened.
Then there’s the Shoprite Checkers, until a few years ago a rather tacky OK. Then they did a huge revamp which included a (presumably massively expensive) redesign of the store itself, which resulted largely in gratifyingly wide aisles. The revamp didn’t, however, extend to the staff, an unfortunate oversight. Still, I like to go there sometimes, just for a change and perhaps because I have some sort of sado-masochistic streak that requires occasional indulgence.
1. You ask a passing person in a Checkers uniform if they have ricotta cheese. They say, ‘This isn’t my aisle. I’ll go and get the right person.’ They walk off.
So, a big THANKYOU TO MALMESBURY SUPERSPAR!! And I put on record that while this excellent service is delivered to customers, I will never shop anywhere else in Malmesbury.