There are certain things that are more pleasurable in the memory than they are in the experience. Camping, for example. Or childhood!
Fish and Chips is such a thing: golden and fresh and steaming and crisp in the memory and in lived experience, a miserable pile of stuff dipped in old oil.
The measure of a fish and chip shop, then, is the distance between ideal memory and reality. Here, it happens to be short.
It's not spectacular. But when is a chippie? What it is is dependably tasty and reasonably priced and clean. It doesn't come up to the fish and chips ideal, but what does? Only memory.
It's worth remembering Blue Sea, though. read more