Much like the rest of the supermarkets which featured last year, the Co-op (pronounced coop) has just sort of been there. Dad was telling me earlier about how membership had been passed down hereditarily through my Mum's family and that he could even remember the number she used to give when visiting one of the local shops and how she received a dividend at the end of the year. But it's only quite recently that it's really become part of my life, through the shops opening on Myrtle and Hardman run-on streets in Liverpool and on Lark Lane, not the Doctor Who one which is mainly residential, the real one with all the restaurants and retail. When it opened, it was during the period with the verbose branding with "the Co-Operative" written on everything which made it feel very metropolitan somehow. They're since returned to the more familiar homespun low-caps logo.
If you don't mind, I'll refer you to the Wikipedia page for an explanation of how the gestalt structure of the Co-op chain works and how it might go some way to explaining why there are two near identical supermarkets at the top and bottom of the same road, and why some shops feel more corporate than others and instead move on to the sandwich. After about a year of not eating turkey, bacon, stuffing and cranberry sauce on malted bread, my taste buds have lost any baseline expertise that it they might have acquired last December. But this seems like a pretty generic example. Despite being out of the fridge for two hours after I bought it, the bread and filling were still cold which give everything a slightly stodgy texture. The cranberry sauce is pretty overwhelming so the flavour of the onion mayonnaise is al most non-existent. The bacon is thin streaky kind which otherwise finds itself wrapped around small sausages. It's fine.
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