Something so incredibly nice happened to me today that, in a fit of happy-clappy hugginess of the kind to which I am rarely prone, I felt I had to ‘share’.
I can be a bit...now what’s the word?
Forgetful.
Ha ha.
So, having patronised (in a good sense, you understand) the local fishmonger to the tune of salmon cutlets, smoked haddock, parsley and a bottle of mind-bogglingly good value olive oil (with extra virgins thrown in), I walk out without the smoked haddock.
D’oh, as I believe young people are fond of saying.
The plan was kedgeree, a dish made fabulously by the Flame-Haired Temptress. All part of a cunning plot on my part to avoid doing the cooking.
Kedgeree isn’t exactly the same thing without the fish.
So I pop back in after picking up The Lad from school. And, incidentally, after an unseemly struggle to get him out of the car. Jings but he’s got some muscles on him for a five-year-old.
The shop is deserted as we enter. Then, from just inside the bit-at-the-back-where-they-do-stuff-to-fish, comes a disembodied voice.
“Customer!”
Out comes the lovely Pauline.
No sooner have I formed the first syllable of the word “Hello”, (after which were supposed to come the words “I’ve been a bit of an arse and forgotten to take away my smoked haddock. I don’t suppose there’s any chance that it’s still knocking around the place?”), than she turns on her heel, and with a broad grin calls to the back “smoked haddock man is here!”.
There is what can only be described as a flurry of excitement from within.
The girl who served me earlier in the day (whose name I now cannot remember - told you I was forgetful) emerges. She is either a very good actor or the worry has been gnawing at her soul for the last five hours, rendering her but a pale shadow of her usual cheerful self. Decorum dictates that she doesn’t actually hug me, but the relief in her voice, her demeanour, her very being, is palpable.
“Thank God! We thought we’d lost you. We ran down the street trying to find you, and the man who was in with you said he would let us know if he saw you. We would have had to close the shop for three days’ mourning if you hadn’t come back.”
I made that last bit up. But only just. They really really wanted me to have my fish.
Now I know I’m probably over-reacting to a small show of kindness - it’s in their interests to be nice to their customers, after all - but that’s what service is, isn’t it? And when you read about Pauline and the story behind this excellent local business (go on, go back and click on the link - it’ll only take a few seconds) it makes you want to jump up and shout ‘Hallelujah for West Norwood!’
And that’s not something you hear every day.
This is a seriously good shop. There is a genuine smile on the face of the whole enterprise, the fish is really good, and they know their stuff.
And they call me Smoked Haddock Man.
All I need now is a cape.
West Norwood Fishmongers,
326 Norwood Road
London SE27 9AF
020 8670 0880
Go there for your fish.
Ooooo the story about Lovely Pauline really is inspirational and it seems to be paying off. If only Northcote Road wasn't going the way of the Big Boys!
Posted by: The Sis-In-Law | 19/03/2010 at 14:04