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When a town's only record shop is staunchly independent and only stocks folk, world and obscure indie/alt stuff. And the owner sits there contentedly smoking roll ups and listening to good music. That's cool.
Also, wading through water to get to a part of a quayside that nobody else can get to because they don't want to get their feet wet and finding clear blue water on the other side and sitting there with your feet in the water whilst having a smoke or four.
Proper old fashioned tea shops with waitresses in little hats, serving trays of sandwiches, pots of tea and cream cakes and lots of strawberry tarts to be scoffed.
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Gordon's alive!
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