Woolworths

Observing the chaos of the East Grinstead branch of Woolworths, shoppers bustle past in a frenzy on this busy Saturday afternoon, arms full of goodies, trying to acquire as much as they can in the pre-Christmas bargain season where offers blanket every shelf.

There must be something special about Woolworths. At least that is what I am being told and, since I somehow managed to live through a childhood deprived of "pic'n'mix" and the likes, I can only guess what it is that turns the closure of a store chain into something of a national tragedy.

It is a busy Tuesday morning in Woolworths' Chatham branch and the shop's aisles are buzzing with customers in search of a Christmas bargain, with at least a dozen queuing at the tills, their arms heavy with sweets and toys.

Elderly women potter about the store with their granny-bags, a young boy drags a toy helicopter along the floor behind him and the workers bustle around filling the shelves. This was the scene at Twydall Woolworths as it faces its hardest time yet.

Contrary to what the pundits would have you believe, Woolworths does indeed have a niche. It’s one that’s very close to my heart. In fact, after Somerfield, Amazon and First Great Western I’ve probably spent more money at Woolworths than anywhere else since I started this course.
That’s not to say I love pick ‘n’ mix (I don’t like sweets) and I certainly never browse beyond my aisle of choice. But for me, Woolworth’s has been a refuge from the relentless newsy-ness of this term so far.

The rows of pic ‘n’ mix sit proudly in their containers, the array of stuffed toys smile on the shelves and the Christmas music sings through the store. However, it is possible that this will be Woolworths last Christmas.