Anticipated that would see a shoemaker

The UK. You saw shoe repair signs outside shops yet for all you knew the shoes were presumably sent to India, Bangladesh or Indonesia for repairs — maybe to even somebody like Nathu, my long-lasting shoemaker in Delhi, who knows. Nathu was from Bihar. In Norwich I experienced a genuine shoemaker at an old once-over shop that had shoe repair painted on its divider. As I pushed the entryway open, a ringer tolled some place inside making me begin. The little austere shop was dim. In the light of its single bare low-watt knob I saw roof high racks along the dividers with slick lines of old shoes with white number labels on them. Amidst the shop stood a counter and behind it on the far divider was an open entryway, perhaps to a cellar. There was nobody around yet I heard the hints of overwhelming strides coming up from creaky wooden stairs. In the blink of an eye a short, stocky old man in loose pants and a folded shirt, and with a rugged face and a boisterous yield of silver hair hurled himself through the open entryway and waddled up to the counter with a morose, "Hi". I grinned at him and laying out two old sets of shoes on the counter, said, "These are for re-heeling, please".