Kendal High Street

The day before I leave. I'm in Kendal, Cumbria. A five hour train journey awaits before getting home, packing my stuff, checking it, rechecking it and then grabbing a few hours sleep before tomorrow's eleven hour train journey down to Plymouth.

So I arrive at the station early. An hour and a half early to be precise. The taxi driver on the way here did something I've never before seen done, he tried to undercharge me. I had the same guy yesterday and he tried the same trick then. Unusual people around these parts.

Yet things got stranger when I ventured into the town centre in search of breakfast. Kendal is a beautiful old town in the heart of the Lake District with cobbled streets and boasts the oldest surviving church in Britain, dating from the 1200s. So I was expecting to find a local little cafe where I could put down my bag and get a coffee. Walking down the high street however I stumbled across a McDonalds restaurant, and with nothing else apparently open I went in. After all McDonalds do some incredible coffee. But this was a Maccy D's like no other. On the surface it was the same, it had obviously recently been refurbished in that oriental style that seems to be in with the Mcbig-wigs, but it was the people that made this place.

All the staff appeared to be old women, and when I arrived they broke off their Cumbrian natter and seemed genuinely thrilled to see me. I made my order and a voice politely asked Dora behind the shoot to prepare me an egg McMuffin.
'Right you are' came the cheerful reply and the grannies swung into motion. Still nattering.

An old man came in behind me and was received with a 'Morning Graham, tea is it? Ill bring it right over'.
'Thanks Jan' he said as he gave a wave to those working in the kitchen. What a player.

But it dawned on me that all the customers were old men and they were all drinking tea as they studied the pages of the FT. Just what was going on here? This was McDonalds. Where were the disillusioned teenagers? Where was the atmosphere of utter indifference that is one of the franchise's saving graces?

As I ate more men came in and were met with the same service. Old women in their McDonalds baseball caps lent on their brooms and exchanged gossip with their flat cap wearing customers. Amongst all this one man got up and left, he clearly wasn't local and he had left a lot of his food. The old girl that went to clear the table quickly alerted the others to the situation and soon a large committee had assembled by the abandoned egg and bacon roll, discussing what to do.

'Do you think he'll come back for it?'
'How long has he been gone?'
'Did he get a phone call?'
'Perhaps it was an emergency'
'I hope he's alright'.

In the end they decided to take it round the back and keep it warm in case he came back. I could only look on in disbelief. The only familiar sight was a police poster pinned to the wall warning against anti-social behaviour. Though I was beginning to wonder what exactly passed for anti-social behaviour in Kendal.

I finished my breakfast, downed the coffee and made a show of clearing away my tray before heading back to the station. People moan a lot about cloned high streets and the McDonaldisation of Britain. However in Kendal I think the fast food giant has met its match. Mcdonalds, it would appear, has fallen victim to Kendalisation.