It’s part of the furniture of British life. The shop on the corner of the street that seems to sell everything: booze, fags, scratchcards, sweets, pet food and hummus. Those crisps you like – Lay’s, not Walkers – in obscure flavours you usually only find on holiday. You might traipse there in your pyjamas when you’ve run out of milk in the morning, or when you’re desperately seeking a sugar hit to ease your hangover. These shops are in the thick of the drama on TV soaps like Coronation Street and Hollyoaks. Back in the real world, there are 49,388 convenience stores across the UK, each with its own story.
On a humid Friday afternoon in east London, I’m sitting outside one such shop eating a warm vegetarian curry. The large cubes of paneer are melting in my mouth and I’m using thepla – a soft Indian flatbread – to mop up the spinach sauce. It’s the quality of meal I’d expect to pay a premium for at a restaurant, or a gentrified street food stall. But it was only £6 from the Londis behind me.
