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Found on the shores of The West Midlands. The Coventry Conch tells the tale of a young girl's experience growing up in Coventry in the 1990's.

Sunday, 8 February 2015


I told my mum last night, I’m never eating anything from our local shop ‘Mr. Friday’s’ ever again. Here is my list of reasons:

1.  My cousin Leanne said that Mr. Friday opens all the bags of Walkers crisps to find the blue packets   that have the prizes in, and then closes them back up with Pritt Stick. Leanne knows this, because once Mr. Friday got the crisps mixed up, and she found a roast chicken flavour crisp in her bag of salt and vinegar. He also has a new van; Leanne says he bought with all the fivers he found in the crisps.

 2.   Mr. Friday has magazines with naked women in at the back of the shop, and my sister Jenny says these are against our beliefs.

3.  Natalie from my class told me Mr. Friday is a wanted criminal in Leicester, and he had to cross the border into Coventry, so the police couldn’t get him.

Mum says she respects my decision, but she is not going to stop shopping there, because she can’t get to Tesco when Dad is working away. I hate it when Dad works away; he never goes to Mr. Fridays.

We’re running late for school, because we’ve lost the hairbrush again. We can’t find it, so mum uses one of my little brother’s Stickle Bricks instead.

It's break time, and I’m eating a packet of Bombay Mix that I bought from the tuck shop. My cousin Amy is at the dentist, so there isn’t anyone to hang around with, apart from Mr. Haywood, the caretaker. I ask him if he wants the green bits in my Bombay Mix, but he says, ‘No thanks Holly!’. He finds me a brush and I help him sweep up for a bit.

Mum has sneaked some Bobby’s Spirals into my lunch box. I know they’re from Mr.Fridays, because they have a sticker on saying Mr. Fridays. Luckily, Amy’s back from the dentist, so I swap them with her Tomato Snaps.

Mum picks me up and says she has to get dinner from Mr. Fridays on the way home. She says I can eat the Cornflakes left over from the selection box for my dinner.

 Just when I think things can’t get any worse, we see Tom from my class and his mum walking in front of us with a dog. My mum catches up with them and says, ‘Is that a new dog Tom? What’s its name?’

Tom says ‘Holly’, and mum asks, ‘Did you name it after my Holly?’

Tom says ‘No!’

I’m waiting outside Mr. Fridays with my brother Josh in his buggy. Mr.Friday waves at us through the window. Josh waves back, but I pretend to check my shoes for dog poo. I feel bad, because Mr.Friday always smiles at me and says ‘Hello’, on my way back from school.

I’m starving and think I might die. All I had for dinner was a mashed up choc ice with some Cornflakes in, because the milk was from Mr.Fridays. Everyone else had mum’s special pizza toast.

I start to cry, because I think I can’t survive without any food from Mr.Fridays. Mum gives me a hug and says she’s saved me some pizza toast in the oven, and that Walkers wouldn’t let Mr.Friday get away with gluing crisp packets back together, and Pritt Stick isn’t strong enough anyway.  

I decide to carry on eating stuff from Mr. Fridays until I have a job and a car in ten years time, and can go to the big Tesco.

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