Every Fish Bar

You're walking down Manor Parade looking for proper fish and chips, not the tourist trap nonsense. Every Fish Bar gets it: golden batter that shatters under your teeth, fish that's actually fresh, chips that aren't soggy. It's the sort of place locals queue for on Friday nights, families with kids grabbing tea, the odd group of mates after the pub. The setup is straightforward—order at the counter, grab your parcel of warmth, and either eat in or take it somewhere decent. Nothing fancy, nothing pretentious, just the thing Harrow's been missing when everywhere else is serving frozen sadness.