This is a story about nostalgia and Pie & Mash, in equal portions.

Trump’s triumph seems to have unleashed a flood of Facebook posts with titles like ‘Brits Only’ or ‘We are UK Lovers’. At face value these posts seem curiously random photographs of our past. Now I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with nostalgia, British or otherwise, but something about them just doesn’t add up:

• The authors of these posts probably don’t have English as their first language; certainly not British English.
• Surprisingly often they seem unable to differentiate London from Dublin from Sheffield.
• Equally often they confuse England with Britain and the english flag with the union flag.

Whatever. groups are ‘writing’ them it’s clear they don’t care much for our language or our past and I suspect their ambitions probably don’t include me being inspired to do the Lambeth Walk.

Mostly this nostalgia comes from places and times I’ve never experienced but veery much did and it annoyed me. It was a short piece lamenting the end of Pie & Mash shops. At its head was a photograph of David Beckham talking to the owner of one such shop, an older lady with a face that sagged from the blasts of steam & heat that come with cooking endless pies and cauldrons of mash. She reminded of my own working class grandmother from the very same part of London who also bore scars from years of making umbrellas in an East End sweat-shop below street level.

But it wasn’t disfigurement that connected my small but so much larger than life nan to this lady. Despite it all both had the exact same twinkle in their eyes and a smile that told you they were everyone’s friend and wished ill of no-one. I’m pretty sure this applies to David Beckham too. My grandmother was friends with everyone no matter where they came from. I found it sad to think such honest human decency could be so misused by people whose most most likely aim is to tear us apart rather.

Pie and Two Mash Twice

As always it was less the post that bothered me but all the people that felt this lack of Pie & Mash was yet another signal of some unspoken sickness at the heart of our society. Clicking on the first ten people commenting on how much better life was in the days when Pie & Mash was plenty, none had the sort of profile - demographic or geographic - that would suggest they were regular visitors to such shops particulalry over the last 20 years when their custom would have been needed most.

I grew up in a family where Pie, Mash, Cockles, Whelks and (shudder) Jellied Eels were a thing so for all those angry at their demise despite never having really visited one I’ll sum up the experience.

Let’s get Jellied Eels out the way first. When you grow up with something it can be quite hard to explain it to yourself let alone someone else but much later a friend from outside London nailed the Jellied Eels part “they have backbones like humans..”

When you go into a Pie and Mash shop the choices are:

• Pie & Mash
• Two Pie & Mash (two pies and one helping of Mash)
• Pie & Two Mash (work that one out for yourself)
• Pie and Mash twice if you were buying for a friend.

There was only ever one type of Pie and I never really found out what was in it — despite asking several times.

Then there was liquor — a pale to bright green gravy made from parsley and what was left over from boiling eels. I didn’t mind Pie & Mash but I always struggled to like liquor. We were all brought up to be grateful for the food we were given so I often wonder how many others quietly felt the same way as me.

Truth be told I probably liked the shops more than the food. The older ones were grandiose things, beautifully tiled and fiercely clean in the same way you could probably have eaten your dinner off the tiled steps that lead down from my Grandmother’s house. Three generations of us lived there but before our collective times these hot, steamy public spaces must have been a wonderful respite from a world of smogs, poverty and cramped, decaying housing stock.

In many ways Pie & Mash shops were more public service than businesses. As late as the nineties you’d see lonely, elderly pensioners with a cup of tea and a hot meal that was more or less square all purchased for less than the price of a sandwich from Marks and Spencers. The shops cared for the needs of their regulars but this kindness was no competion for a wide range of pre-filled sandwiches, paninis and wraps.

The fault is in ourselves

Quite possibly I’m sadder than most to see Pie & Mash shops go but I’m honest enough to admit I’m a part of the problem. I just wouldn’t choose to eat Pie & Mash often enough to consider them a part of my life. The best any shop can hope from me is the very occasional passing visit for old times sake provided I am hungry enough at the time. Who can base a business on that ? The few Pie & Mash shops remaining are largely kept afloat by Hipsters and their quirky, post-modern obsession with past. I suspect they don’t like liquor too.

These days I live outside the influence of London but, bizarrely, still have a Pie & Mash shop near me. The staff are young, the customers are young, younger than me at least, but this shop has a range of pies, caters for vegetarians. Even the mash comes in different flavours plus varipus choice of topping — my favourite being crispy onions. They have a thriving business but one that few old age pensioners from that time could afford.

That’s the rub. Pie & Mash shops were businesses that catered for the needs of an underclass that no longer exist in sufficient numbers to keep them going. I’m still sad to see them go but I’m also a little bit pleased.