'Cod' by Armani

Alderley Edge High Street, a football-kick from Manchester

It isn't every day that you laugh hysterically with a taxi driver at 8am in the morning. Or at least not in my daily life. But on Friday this week, Lynn and I sat in the back of a taxi outside Manchester, UK, and split our sides in hysterics. It was one of those 'had to be there' experiences, but I'll try to describe the situation.

We were in the UK running Advanced Negotiation training for AstraZeneca. AZ's office is in beautiful parkland in Cheshire, 30 minutes from Manchester airport. Close to the AZ compound is a village called Alderley Edge, and this is where we were staying. Alderley Edge is a cute village, with a tree-lined main street, Georgian houses and thatched cottages. Very rural. It is the place where the elite of Manchester settle down, in very exclusive houses. The Beckhams once lived here and the place is crawling with footballers and their orange-skinned WAGS. Apparently, this village is the place where the most champagne per capita is consumed in the whole of the UK.

The village is also renouned for its fish and chip shop - Foster's. Chippie to the stars. No matter how much money or prestige you have in the north of England, you can still pop down to the fish and chip shop. This is where we decided to eat our meal on the Thursday night. Cod and chips twice. And a side order of mushy peas for Lynn. What is good about Foster's was that it isn't just takeaway - you can sit inside and eat. We hung up our coats and, surrounded by locals and glitterati, we tucked in to our meals.

Back at the hotel, we noticed an unmistakeable odour. Our clothes and coats had soaked up the scent of fried fish, batter and greasy chip oil. Oh well, we thought, it'll be gone by the morning. No such luck. The next day, our coats still reaked of chippie. Climbing into the taxi, we were still complaining to eachother about the revolting, lingering odour.

The taxi driver asked where we'd been. We answered that we'd been at Foster's in Alderley Edge. 'Oh', he said. 'then you're wearing 'Cod' by Armani.'

He had hit the nail right on the head. The designer image of classic clothing and perfume combined with the down-to-earth phenomena of the fish and chip shop summed up the people of Alderley Edge perfectly.

But the taxi driver didn't stop there.

'There's always something a bit fishy about Alderley Edge', he said
'Oh we're out of the frying pan into the frier in this taxi', we said
'Yeah, but this is the best plaice to be', he said

'Glad we've got you as a driver,' we said, 'you're a real catch'

'Are you fishermen's friend?' he asked Lynn

'Be careful or she'll batter you', I said

'Oh I feel like I'm in deep water' said Lynn

'Stop fishing for compiments' the driver said

And so it went on. The entire journey from the hotel to AstraZeneca, we were in stitches.

Wouldn't it be fun if more of our days could begin that way?  Especially on a Fryday!

Neil S