Viking Fish and Chip Shop, Cambridge

Friday. On my cycle home I pass through a short, intense patch of air laced with the smell of battered fish and chips frying, the scent equivalent of a fog bank before emerging a few moments later back into the clear air. A cup of tea and a rumble of a stomach later, I find myself back at the Viking Fish and Chip Shop, threading myself between the parked cars on the forecourt and joining the queue of hungry punters for a regular Fish and Chips. The décor of the place has not changed since the 1980's and it has the character of a housing estate takeaway, albeit a good one. The standard is not of that found at the seaside joints, like those found in Wells-next-the-Sea (sic) for example, but it is decent. I eat hungrily straight from the paper it was wrapped in.

Fish and chips