TV presenter Babita Sharma tells Alice Cairns why corner shops are the best of British...
On my way to meet BBC journalist Babita Sharma, I notice corner shops everywhere. Almost every street I pass boasts one of these familiar little stores crammed with necessities; places to go for a pint of milk, a loaf of bread and a chat. I’ve rarely spared them a thought before, but now it becomes apparent just how cheerfully I have taken them for granted.
I’ve just watched Babita’s Ted Talk, ‘The truth about corner shops and immigration’. It’s a passionate speech about the place of corner shops in our cultural consciousness, and how these humble local spaces reflect the social history of the UK. Babita’s brand new book on the subject, The Corner Shop: Shopkeepers, the Sharmas, and the making of modern Britain, was published in April and will feature as a BBC Radio 4 Book of the Week this month.
After studying journalism at the University of Wales, and with a stint as a DJ under her belt, Babita began her career in earnest at BBC Radio Berkshire in 2003. For the past few years, she has worked as a presenter at BBC World News, covering such major events as the Trump election, the Rio Olympics and two royal weddings. Now, however, writing her book has taken her back to her childhood, working the tills in Berkshire.
The daughter of shopkeepers, Babita grew up in a succession of corner shops in Reading – first at Cemetery Junction, then in the suburb of Caversham. She spent her free time stacking shelves, sweeping shop floors and helping with the cash and carry run. All members of the family, however unwilling, were expected to pull their weight.
“When you’re part of a corner shop family, you have to be involved,” she tells me over coffee in Richmond, close to her St Margarets base. “The shop is pretty much your living room, an integral part of your home. That wasn’t something I liked when I was growing up, but I’ve come to realize that it made me who I am today.
“When I was a child I used to sit behind the counter and watch people; I’d see who was wearing their pyjamas under their coat, or who was trying to nick the penny sweets. It sparked curiosity and nosiness about others which, I think, is what led me to become a journalist.”
And what better training ground for the budding BBC World News presenter? Every day, the young Babita would watch as a diverse group of customers gathered together to discuss news from both near and far.
“Corner shops provide a snapshot of what’s going on in British life. People from all communities, social classes, ethnic groups and religions meet in one space to buy their milk and cigarettes. My shop was like a Reading version of Question Time – the customers loved to discuss the headlines in the papers while they waited in line. I learnt so much about people and communities.”
And although she insists that they’re poles apart politically, Babita can point to a colourful fellow member of the corner shop sorority: Margaret Thatcher. Like Babita, Thatcher grew up in a flat above the corner shop that her father owned and ran, and the pair had plenty of experiences in common.
“In her memoirs, Thatcher describes watching with interest as all sorts of weird and wonderful people walked into the shop. I certainly remember that feeling. It’s a unique existence.”
As part of her research, Babita actually went to visit the shop in Grantham, Lincolnshire, where the young Margaret lived.
“It’s now a chiropractor’s, but she occupied a bedroom above the shop which had a very similar view to my own. Nowadays, though, there’s a 24-hour Asda opposite the building. Of course, she was the prime minister who opened up Sunday trading, which had a massive, negative impact on corner shops – in fact, it nearly destroyed them altogether. So I find that Asda pretty ironic.”
Yet the corner shop, that most resilient of underdogs, survived. Babita explains how, in postwar Britain, it steadily evolved into its present, familiar incarnation. In the 1940s, she says, people would gather in their local shop to collect their rations and catch up on gossip, but in the 1950s came the influx of big American-style supermarkets, coinciding with the widespread use of cars and home refrigeration. Swathes of corner shops folded in the face of the competition from bigger, brighter stores stocked with shelves of colourful branded goods. The decline of the white, working-class shopkeeper had begun.
For a while, it looked as though corner shops themselves were gone for good. But in the 60s and 70s, they received an unexpected boost from immigrant communities, who saw the derelict buildings as a golden opportunity. Adopting an ‘open all hours’ culture – often violating trade laws in the process – the new arrivals gave these forsaken premises a fresh lease of life.
“You don’t need formal qualifications to open a corner shop,” Babita explains. “You need to be able to work very hard for very long hours. You need grit and determination. For immigrant communities, joining the workforce can mean language barriers and discrimination. But owning a corner shop allows you to be your own boss.”
And the shops have continued to adapt to the changing face of Britain. Recently, they’ve faced daunting competition from the likes of Tesco Express, Little Waitrose and Sainsbury’s Local. Moreover, many of the original Indian owners have since left the business, while their children have gone on to become doctors, accountants or – as in Babita’s case – journalists.
But now a new wave of immigrants has rehabilitated the corner shop yet again. Taking advantage of our diverse tastes, Polish incomers have been able to rebrand shops as specialist stores with an international flavour, stocking Polish products alongside more familiar offerings.
“I call it the nine lives of the corner shop! These places are constantly resurrected. If some fold, there’ll always be a new group of immigrants willing to take on those shabby ruins and breathe new life into them.”
And the corner shop has done more than just survive. In its own quiet way, believes Babita, this perennial survivor has profoundly revolutionized race relations in the UK.
“Corner shops are often located at the end of a row of Victorian terraced houses. So, in the 60s and 70s, you’d have Indians moving right into the middle of a white neighbourhood. It would often be the first time that the white community had met non-white people, learning about the way they looked, dressed and spoke. Now the same thing is happening with the next cycle of immigrants, such as the Polish and Afghan communities.”
Run and sustained by immigrants they may be, but corner shops have nevertheless become a quintessentially British institution.
“They have that sense of nostalgia and romance,” reflects Babita. “They are undoubtedly among the unsung heroes of British life.”
And does the Berkshire shopkeeper’s daughter use her own local corner shop in St Margarets?
“All the time!” she laughs. “This morning I popped in for some cream eggs. The place is actually run by a Sri Lankan who fled during the country’s civil war. That’s the interesting thing about corner shops: the people who own them usually have a story. You only have to ask.”
The Corner Shop: Shopkeepers, the Sharmas and the making of modern Britain was published on April 18.
