I’ve always found the concept of romanticising or caring for a chain of high street shops absurd. To me, they are a faceless pickpocketing point for things we desire, and much more rarely, need. The (ongoing) national mourning for the collapse of Woolworths is possibly the most ridiculous example of them all. It seems like every day somebody with nothing better to say will still recount the time “I used to go with my Nan and buy the pick ‘n’ mix every Saturday”. Implying that if it wasn’t for Woolworths, childhood as we know it would have ceased to exist. Not that they would have gone to another shop and that would have been the end of it. Or that, in truth, it was just a really shit shop.









