I must have walked by the shop in question hundreds of times in the years I’ve lived here, and it has never looked anything other than utterly unprepossessing, all Cillit Bang and slightly dusty green peppers. But the queue at the greengrocer, marked out by the taped lines we’ve all come to know so well, was more than usually long, and so it was that the other day I finally went in. I saw the fresh coriander straightaway, and grabbed it. But then I spied something else, even more lusted after: fresh naans as big as satellite dishes; Middle Eastern flatbreads as long and as soft as linen table runners. Treasure. I gathered up bags of each, paid, and went home feeling thrilled: another discovery made.
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