A few months ago there was an interesting piece on the Rust about the internet’s threat to the High St. May I be permitted to contribute to this?
The main street of Kemp Town or Camp Town, as it is known for its preponderance of gays, is a typically affluent shopping street of independents. The only supermarket is Co-Op, where I have to queue with The Great Unwashed to refill my electricity key. I was there yesterday and stopped off at the butchers and French patisserie, where a charming fillette from Toulouse handed my baguette and my macaroons of choice.
I then stopped off at the sport shop for nearby Brighton College, to see if they had a cricket bat for Jamie, size one for his birthday. The lady confessed she had just started and had no idea if they had a size one but consulted with her superior who was on the phone. She, handset in hand, arrived and handed over the bat with no comment. I waited till she came off the phone and asked to confirm the size. “It has ‘1’ on it ..” she said, a bit sharply for my taste. I will not visit the shop again. Had I purchased the same on my Amazon account, not only would it have been cheaper but I would have been offered all sorts of accessories as well.
It’s no good blaming the new techno if you do not undertand the old fashioned virtues of service.