Not far from London Zoo is the facade of what was once a famous pet shop. It claimed Winston Churchill and Charlie Chaplin were its customers but who knows? Now it’s one of the ubiquitous Gail’s Cafes.
I saw neither the monkeys nor talking parrots before it was transformed into a cafe, but years ago was intrigued by the shop’s upstairs section. It was up a narrow staircase, and had a sign saying children must be accompanied by adults. A pale, bald man was in charge there. There were huge African snails and a deep freeze holding an assortment of shrink-wrapped piglets. ‘To feed snakes,’ he explained. He told me a young man had tried to steal a large tarantula, concealing it under his coat, but didn’t make it downstairs. ‘The tarantula’s hairy legs can cause a skin reaction.’ he said, ‘the thief started wriggling and dropped the spider before he made his escape.’ The tarantula was unhurt and unfazed apparently. Although how can you gauge a giant spider’s mood?
The drawing is from one of my Draw It! books.
