Mr Moxon isn't normally open on Sundays but today his shop was doing a roaring festive trade. Huge white bags of pre-ordered fish lined up amongst the next-door-florist's Christmas trees on the pavement outside. Sides of smoked salmon poking out of every other one and names, numbers and £s scrawled in marker pen on the sides. Cold and misty, the whole street became a giant open-plan walk-in fridge.
My bag was heavy. A giant turbot and a bag of scallops for Christmas Eve dinner, a bronze smoked mackerel for scrambled egg breakfasts and midnight feasts and some salmon and monkfish to freeze until New Year's Eve.
The anticipation grows again.
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