On a basic level, you can buy pretty much all you need in Brislington. Along Sandy Hill you’ll find a decent butcher, convenience stores, a café and close by some handy corner shops, one of which I use for milk, bread and toilet paper on a regular basis. In fact, if I didn’t ‘want’ to shop in the nearby Tesco or Sainsbury’s, I could happily avoid them altogether.

So why do I find myself once weekly psyching up for a supermarket mission when I could make use of neighbourhood stores and help my local economy? A major issue is simply one of cost. If I purchased life’s necessities locally, my average bill would easily rise by 20%. They’re not much for special offers are they, the locals? Although my friendly corner shop does let me off the odd 10p if I ‘promise to back it back next time’. And of course, it’s always an almighty pain the ass, shop-surfing. A bag of mince from Sandy Park Butchers, nicotine patches from Lloyds Pharmacy, beans from Costcutter, stamps from the post office and…well, you’d have to be Dr. Who, or eighty, to have that much spare time.

On the other hand, local shops do offer a mercenary form of convenience, if you can handle the mark-up and third-world lack of choice. Need a pair of rubber gloves in a hurry? You can be home in five minutes before the dishwater gets cold. But the reality is, if I need an entire weeks’ shopping, the only practical solution is to hop in the motor and raid Sainsbury’s (forget Tesco, the traffic up the A4 Brislington Hill is a waking nightmare).

However, ask me if I’d appreciate a hulking supermarket Right On My Doorstep and I’d tell you to jump in a lake. The traffic! The people! The ‘sight’ of the monstrosity – even if it had a mellow faux-church steeple I would not be a happy citizen. Cathedrals of avarice are being erected in every available space, reflecting the overconsumption, greed and rampant capitalism we all casually ignore – until it happens in our own back yard. If we don’t take action soon, they’ll be converting our letterboxes into cash-points and persuading households to ‘deal’ out of brand-sponsored kitchen windows; ‘Over ‘ere mate. Got some pukka male grooming products in today. Sniff some of this - I’ll give you double points!’

So, pity the irate residents of Stokes Croft, in a stew over Tescos’ next planned outlet; a somewhat forced penetration through the back door of Jester’s old comedy club. “Stop Tesco: Every Little Hurts”, yelped the protesters’ banner. While lamppost climbing, placard waving and squatting on the roof of a defunct comedy club isn’t where I’d normally invest free time, if Tesco plotted the invasion of vacant premises near me, I’d buy one of their discounted foldaway chairs and campaign as vigorously as possible, from a comfortably seated position. This, after all would be the sixth Tesco within a miles’ radius of Cheltenham Road.

We all know the downside to this form of corporate domination. A story repeated all over Britain – as local business winds down, so the vibrancy and originality is sucked from smaller communities. And ironically, not every shopper lives within easy reach of a supermarket. Consider the elderly, with no car or internet, whose shopping budgets are too small for home delivery services. Furthermore, consider the loss of exchanging simple, everyday pleasantries with local traders - while more often we endure the mumbled salutations of faceless till ‘operatives’.

Should supermarkets stop playing Monopoly with established traders in our city? A resounding YES. But the only way to show that we, the consumer, mean business is to offer supplementary business to the very shops we want to remain open. So the next time you need a six pack of beer, or wine for the ladies, think of the little shop on the corner and spend your cash there, because you’ll miss it when it’s gone.

Paul Lever
Photos by Jonathan Taphouse www.TaphousePhotography.com