I was 25 years old when KwikSave hit 40 (2004). I was there, I photographed it. I remember the isles. It’s whole layout. I still dream I’m walking it’s zigzag display. Not long before the crash. Before it’s slow descent into a long decay. I remember when it first opened in Crosshands. No longer would we have to travel to Carmarthen to do the food shop. It was the talk of the town. It’s unbelievable prices. It’s no frills brands. White packaging. I can still see my Grandfather as plain as day, a KwikSave Superfan, taking his shopping to his Red ‘Red Hot’ Austin Metro.
I once photographed my brother in the freezer aisle. Smartly dressed. Wearing a gas mask, holding a basket of red bricks. The customers thought we were crazy. Maybe we were. But no more crazy than standing on its cracked concrete, watching the ghosts of its day through the seams of its boarded up windows. Today, in its place stands the biggest retail park Crosshands has ever seen. And now, whenever I’m there, all I see is all that was. But one day someone’s B&M, Asda or Peacocks, will be my KwikSave. For nothing that stands in the name of capitalism stands for long, for castles cannot stand when build on sand.
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