bombardment

We zig zag round the warehouse ways of a Northern town, looking for a takeaway. We get to the Lebanese place just as the shutters are coming down. The man closing them says he shuts at ten and he doesn't do takeaway. He looks hot and careworn. He says things aren't good, of course they're not. He's got family in the North and the South and things are bad everywhere. He doesn't want to talk about it. He wants to close up. He points to two places where we can pick something up. In one of them we get a mixed veg and a lamb curry for three pounds fifty each.