Canal Roach: Trapped in a Sisyphean Loop - Pt.12

Freeman’s down the road used to be the sort of butcher’s shop where the floor was permanently damp, the counter stained with thirty years of honest graft and somebody always seemed to be carrying half a cow through the doorway. It had character. Proper character. Sadly, character these days apparently means selling artisan chutney at the price of a small mortgage payment, so the whole place after the owners sold the land has transformed into a fashionable farm shop with reclaimed wood, hanging baskets and customers who discuss olives as if they’re trading fine wines.I wandered round it carefully, frightened to touch anything in case it added twelve quid to the bill. One sausage roll looked like it ought to come with finance options. The café was packed with people paying the thick end of a tenner for a pork bap, which felt wrong on both a financial and spiritual level. I gave that a miss entirely and headed for safer ground at the butcher’s counter and cheese section, where sanity…