Rosemary de C Hamilton, London

I didn’t really understand my fascination with this shop, not straight away. I puzzled over the contents in the window trying to think what is was I found so pleasing? There were two blue candles, that had been just blown out, there were some old pictures in frames, a man on his knees imploring a woman in a big crinoline frock(I knew I liked that but still it was something more)– and then most amazing of all there were what appeared to be broken crockery.

I knew that the red haired woman in the mustard jumper busily doing accounts was partly the reason for my feeling of ease. She was so honest and credible looking. But it wasn’t until I read the shop front saying’ Rosemary Hamilton, China Repairs’ that I understood.
It was the tacit acknowledgment that people did throw crockery at one another that gave this place its sense of consolation. . ‘Yes you threw it’ I can imagine her saying to a tearful client’ ‘yes it is in smithereens, and yes I can fix it for you. Nobody will ever know’.

That’s what it was I liked about this shop, that discrete and pleasant looking lady and the knowledge you could bring your smashed dishes here, and she’d fix them.