Open All Hours

from £25.00
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Stepping into the abandoned shop felt like walking into a time capsule. Dust clung to the air, illuminated by soft beams of light streaming through grimy windows. Shelves stood half-stocked with faded tins and rusting cans, their labels peeling but still faintly readable.

It instantly reminded me of Open All Hours, the charm of a small, local shop where everything had its place, where transactions were more than just sales but moments of conversation, routine, and community. Here, though, silence had settled in, interrupted only by the occasional creak of the warped wooden floor beneath my feet.

A handwritten sign still clung to the till, its ink smudged but its message of prices long frozen in time. A small, forgotten notebook lay open on the counter, its last entries marking a day that must have seemed just like any other—until the doors closed for good.

Despite the dust and decay, there was warmth in the nostalgia, a sense of life lingering in the stillness. This shop had once been alive with chatter, with the ringing of a till, with the rustle of paper bags being filled. Now, it stood as a quiet monument to a bygone era, a place where time had not moved on, even when the world outside had.

Stepping into the abandoned shop felt like walking into a time capsule. Dust clung to the air, illuminated by soft beams of light streaming through grimy windows. Shelves stood half-stocked with faded tins and rusting cans, their labels peeling but still faintly readable.

It instantly reminded me of Open All Hours, the charm of a small, local shop where everything had its place, where transactions were more than just sales but moments of conversation, routine, and community. Here, though, silence had settled in, interrupted only by the occasional creak of the warped wooden floor beneath my feet.

A handwritten sign still clung to the till, its ink smudged but its message of prices long frozen in time. A small, forgotten notebook lay open on the counter, its last entries marking a day that must have seemed just like any other—until the doors closed for good.

Despite the dust and decay, there was warmth in the nostalgia, a sense of life lingering in the stillness. This shop had once been alive with chatter, with the ringing of a till, with the rustle of paper bags being filled. Now, it stood as a quiet monument to a bygone era, a place where time had not moved on, even when the world outside had.


All prints are printed onto fine art matt textured paper, along with title, artist name and blind embossed.

Limited Editions are numbered, titled, signed in pencil, and comes with a certificate of authenticity.