Blast from the past: The humble corner shop

Whether they were actually on a corner, or not, independent corner shops were once a familiar sight on our streets before the big supermarket chains came along.

Corner shops weren’t fancy. Most of the time they didn’t have the item you wanted, but they did had soul, and when the shutters went down on ‘Jim’s’ ‘Nancy’s or ‘Dan’s’, a gaping hole, literally and metaphorically, was left behind.

When I was at university in Belfast, my corner shop, with its meagre square footage, was a lifeline for the essentials. I knew the owner by name. Everyone did.

It didn’t sell anything artisan or chi-chi. There were tins of beans, sliced pans, cheese graters, plastic toys, dish cloths, mouse traps, tights, iced buns, bleach, chocolate, bin bags, and newspapers, including this one. It sold stuff that didn’t require a more lengthy bus trip to a larger supermarket. Then one day it was gone and I was genuinely sad.

A corner shop is a cornerstone of the community. Much more than a purveyor of goods, it is a place that retails gossip and human interaction. Where we can have a natter about the weather, or Josie in number 47.

Very few of them remain. We should treasure them, as their shelf life seems uncertain.