gaijingirl
Well-Known Member
ah well that's comparatively useful - not that I need to go there often, but occasionally.
Brixton chitter chatter, part 2
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Should have been a Black 5 (http://www.railwayherald.com/imaging.centre/showimage.php?image=175457)
THE SUSSEX BELLE (17/12)
London Victoria-Hastings [wcrc]
44932: London Victoria-Maidstone-Ashford-Hastings-Robertsbridge-Sevenoaks-Victoria
[44932 replaces 34067 which is unavailable]
Apparently due back through at 16.04 (http://www.uksteam.info/tours/t10/t1221c.htm)
Mrs Magpie
On a bit of break...
Top link in post above yours jakejb79
ShiftyBagLady
Thinks she is a flower to be looked at
(((Brixton Wholefoods)))
ShiftyBagLady
Thinks she is a flower to be looked at
They're not entirely miserable, quite a few of them are actually friendly. I saw it as a personal challenge to get on smiling terms with them and I did 
Success comes in many forms...
Success comes in many forms...
editor
hiraethified
It didn't come back through Brixton but I managed one half arsed photo this morning. I'll post it later.
ShiftyBagLady
Thinks she is a flower to be looked at
Wholefoods are well established and have a good regular customer base but h&b's more prominent position on the high street and their discount offers will take some custom from wholefoods and probably snap up most new customers.
Edit: they're really nice to my child too and the range of things they sell, the quality of the fresh food and their invaluable herb shelves are a boon.
It's probably my favourite shop in brixton actually.
Edit: they're really nice to my child too and the range of things they sell, the quality of the fresh food and their invaluable herb shelves are a boon.
It's probably my favourite shop in brixton actually.
Mrs Magpie
On a bit of break...
Really? I see H&B and BW as having completely different customer bases. I know that when I were a lass in days of yore, H&B got all the business when there was nothing else in our town but when a whlefood co-operative opened up, they got loads of business from people who just stopped buying at H&B because it was so pricey. Also, never underestimate customer loyalty. Brixtonites are loyal to shops that have served them well for the best part of 40 years.
quimcunx
imprimeo, lamino, distribuo
Well I've always meant to use Wholefoods more but in reality me wanting them and them being open and me remembering about them and that I'm needing/fancying something they sell probably happens less often than I so happen to be passing an H&B and have taken the opportunity to go in and get stuff. Providing they are open until 7pm having an H&B in my line of sight when I come out of the tube means they will get business from me. However it's not like Wholefoods will be losing more than a few pounds a year off me.
miss minnie
Well-Known Member
It will be interesting to see which of their lines H&B will push the most.
Body building products
'Remedies' (some of which are made from animal products such as cartilage, adrenal glans and collagen)
Vitamins
Yoghurt, alfalfa, nuts, dried fruit and other misc. foodstuffs
Skin care and other toiletries
Body building products
'Remedies' (some of which are made from animal products such as cartilage, adrenal glans and collagen)
Vitamins
Yoghurt, alfalfa, nuts, dried fruit and other misc. foodstuffs
Skin care and other toiletries
ShiftyBagLady
Thinks she is a flower to be looked at
Don't get me wrong, I'm sure wholefoods will survive, as I said they've got a good set of regular customers but h&b have a really good spot there and will swallow up passing trade. I will probably use h&b myself as they do have some good offers on supplements and the likes every now and then
Orang Utan
Psychick Worrier Ov Geyoor
i think they shouldn't be allowed to sell half the things they do
Mrs Magpie
On a bit of break...
Bemax. You forgot Bemax.
story
Changing the facts
Poor old Brixton Wholefoods 
I have rather a soft spot for the place.
It's true that every person in there is either gloomy or moody or dippy or some other one-dimensional cliche. But as I've got to know them over the years, and the shop in all its dysfunctional soap-opera reality-TV drama, I have a better idea about how it all works.
The grumpy beardy bloke is the guv'nor. He never gets a day off, he works there from dawn til dusk 7 days a week. He has the prison pallor cos he never sees daylight, apart from the occasional jaunt to the highstreet, during which he nutter-mutters under his breath about how useless and shiftless his workers are. The child of one of his staff is sincerely convinced that he lives inside the shop. Despite being a bit of an arse, he is honest and trustworthy, principled and ethical, and trapped in a dismal routine of his own making.
The grumpy French woman has the archetypical Parisienne disdain for anyone who is not a personal acquaintance, and even those she knows well rarely earn a glimmer of a smile. But it's this woman who is able to diffuse a tense situation with a single word, who knows the names of the local homeless people because she shares tea and cake with them, and remembers the names and personal likes and dislikes of the children who come into the shop.
The long-haired Chinese chap has a large and complex family, all of whom make strange and compelling demands on his time. He is a tennis prodigy who never plays a tournamant.
The diminutive woman with the small voice has deep pools of strange history.
The large gallumping beardy bloke works in Theatre, his ambition thwarted by circumstance.
They've all got fascinating back-stories. And the relationships between them all could keep a telly-drama script writer happy for many Bafta-winning years.
They're not all grumpy all the time. And they do actually have to put up with an awful lot of shit.
I was in there once and overheard a row between a foiled shoplifter and beardy bloke. The shoplifter - caught with two bottles of Palestinian olive oil down his trousers - found every attempted twist met and invalidated with calm logic, and eventually played the race card. This last infuriated the beardy bloke who finally turfed him out fo the shop. At no point was the thief threatened with the law.
The local dealers and crack addicts are in and out all day long buying 20 pence worth of dried herbs to palm off on the drug tourists. They aggravate the proper shoppers, butting in and pushing and barging. The staff try to keep the peace between the various factions, having failed dismally in all attempts to get the dealers and addicts to leave the shop alone.
Oh, and there was the time when the scary idealist threw a scary tantrum and eventually had a terrifying meltdown in the shop. In the end another punter who knew her phoned her fella and he came down to escort her away. She was upset because she'd found a product on the shelves that she thought ought to be boycotted. The guv'nor tried to explain that he had indeed taken it off the shelves, but demand was so high that he re-instated it and put a sign in the window about the boycott.
Whatever you want, if they don't have it, they'll order it in. And they stock nearly 300 different herbs, some of them thrillingly obscure, which you weigh out yourself and then tell them how much you owe. Is there anywhere else that trusts their customers to tell them how much they owe?
So, there you go: a rather idiosyncratic, independent hippy shop.
Long may it stumble on.
I have rather a soft spot for the place.
It's true that every person in there is either gloomy or moody or dippy or some other one-dimensional cliche. But as I've got to know them over the years, and the shop in all its dysfunctional soap-opera reality-TV drama, I have a better idea about how it all works.
The grumpy beardy bloke is the guv'nor. He never gets a day off, he works there from dawn til dusk 7 days a week. He has the prison pallor cos he never sees daylight, apart from the occasional jaunt to the highstreet, during which he nutter-mutters under his breath about how useless and shiftless his workers are. The child of one of his staff is sincerely convinced that he lives inside the shop. Despite being a bit of an arse, he is honest and trustworthy, principled and ethical, and trapped in a dismal routine of his own making.
The grumpy French woman has the archetypical Parisienne disdain for anyone who is not a personal acquaintance, and even those she knows well rarely earn a glimmer of a smile. But it's this woman who is able to diffuse a tense situation with a single word, who knows the names of the local homeless people because she shares tea and cake with them, and remembers the names and personal likes and dislikes of the children who come into the shop.
The long-haired Chinese chap has a large and complex family, all of whom make strange and compelling demands on his time. He is a tennis prodigy who never plays a tournamant.
The diminutive woman with the small voice has deep pools of strange history.
The large gallumping beardy bloke works in Theatre, his ambition thwarted by circumstance.
They've all got fascinating back-stories. And the relationships between them all could keep a telly-drama script writer happy for many Bafta-winning years.
They're not all grumpy all the time. And they do actually have to put up with an awful lot of shit.
I was in there once and overheard a row between a foiled shoplifter and beardy bloke. The shoplifter - caught with two bottles of Palestinian olive oil down his trousers - found every attempted twist met and invalidated with calm logic, and eventually played the race card. This last infuriated the beardy bloke who finally turfed him out fo the shop. At no point was the thief threatened with the law.
The local dealers and crack addicts are in and out all day long buying 20 pence worth of dried herbs to palm off on the drug tourists. They aggravate the proper shoppers, butting in and pushing and barging. The staff try to keep the peace between the various factions, having failed dismally in all attempts to get the dealers and addicts to leave the shop alone.
Oh, and there was the time when the scary idealist threw a scary tantrum and eventually had a terrifying meltdown in the shop. In the end another punter who knew her phoned her fella and he came down to escort her away. She was upset because she'd found a product on the shelves that she thought ought to be boycotted. The guv'nor tried to explain that he had indeed taken it off the shelves, but demand was so high that he re-instated it and put a sign in the window about the boycott.
Whatever you want, if they don't have it, they'll order it in. And they stock nearly 300 different herbs, some of them thrillingly obscure, which you weigh out yourself and then tell them how much you owe. Is there anywhere else that trusts their customers to tell them how much they owe?
So, there you go: a rather idiosyncratic, independent hippy shop.
Long may it stumble on.
miss minnie
Well-Known Member
I had too google that, never heard of it. Still not quite sure...
Bemax Trade name for a wheat germ preparation?
story
Changing the facts
I reckon they'll pick up a lot of the body-building trade, who are often disappointed with the range on offer at BWF.
TruXta
tired
Poor old Brixton Wholefoods
I have rather a soft spot for the place.
It's true that every person in there is either gloomy or moody or dippy or some other one-dimensional cliche. But as I've got to know them over the years, and the shop in all its dysfunctional soap-opera reality-TV drama, I have a better idea about how it all works.
The grumpy beardy bloke is the guv'nor. He never gets a day off, he works there from dawn til dusk 7 days a week. He has the prison pallor cos he never sees daylight, apart from the occasional jaunt to the highstreet, during which he nutter-mutters under his breath about how useless and shiftless his workers are. The child of one of his staff is sincerely convinced that he lives inside the shop. Despite being a bit of an arse, he is honest and trustworthy, principled and ethical, and trapped in a dismal routine of his own making.
The grumpy French woman has the archetypical Parisienne disdain for anyone who is not a personal acquaintance, and even those she knows well rarely earn a glimmer of a smile. But it's this woman who is able to diffuse a tense situation with a single word, who knows the names of the local homeless people because she shares tea and cake with them, and remembers the names and personal likes and dislikes of the children who come into the shop.
The long-haired Chinese chap has a large and complex family, all of whom make strange and compelling demands on his time. He is a tennis prodigy who never plays a tournamant.
The diminutive woman with the small voice has deep pools of strange history.
The large gallumping beardy bloke works in Theatre, his ambition thwarted by circumstance.
They've all got fascinating back-stories. And the relationships between them all could keep a telly-drama script writer happy for many Bafta-winning years.
They're not all grumpy all the time. And they do actually have to put up with an awful lot of shit.
I was in there once and overheard a row between a foiled shoplifter and beardy bloke. The shoplifter - caught with two bottles of Palestinian olive oil down his trousers - found every attempted twist met and invalidated with calm logic, and eventually played the race card. This last infuriated the beardy bloke who finally turfed him out fo the shop. At no point was the thief threatened with the law.
The local dealers and crack addicts are in and out all day long buying 20 pence worth of dried herbs to palm off on the drug tourists. They aggravate the proper shoppers, butting in and pushing and barging. The staff try to keep the peace between the various factions, having failed dismally in all attempts to get the dealers and addicts to leave the shop alone.
Oh, and there was the time when the scary idealist threw a scary tantrum and eventually had a terrifying meltdown in the shop. In the end another punter who knew her phoned her fella and he came down to escort her away. She was upset because she'd found a product on the shelves that she thought ought to be boycotted. The guv'nor tried to explain that he had indeed taken it off the shelves, but demand was so high that he re-instated it and put a sign in the window about the boycott.
Whatever you want, if they don't have it, they'll order it in. And they stock nearly 300 different herbs, some of them thrillingly obscure, which you weigh out yourself and then tell them how much you owe. Is there anywhere else that trusts their customers to tell them how much they owe?
So, there you go: a rather idiosyncratic, independent hippy shop.
Long may it stumble on.
YOU write that screen-play. At least pad this wonderful little sketch into a much longer piece. I've never been in but it sounds like a one of a kind type of place.
ShiftyBagLady
Thinks she is a flower to be looked at
Orang Utan
Psychick Worrier Ov Geyoor
i hope it was made up! great stuff mind!
Minnie_the_Minx
someinenhhanding menbag and me ah bollox
It's brilliant, can't wait for the first episode
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