One Sunday morning around a year ago I arrived at the Morrison’s early, and stood in front of the doors waiting for them to be unlocked. A small queue gathered. Soon, I realized that Jenny Agutter was standing next to me. We had a brief conversation about how lame we felt standing in front of sliding glass doors and waiting for them to open. She gave up and walked off. Unfortunately, I gave it 5 more minutes.
If I had it to do over, I would follow her through the desert of Camberwell, and, at the very least, to a better grocery store.