This lady and gent were the proud owners of Bino's Fish Bar in Ynyshir Road, Rhondda Fach.
The chip shop was one of two on Ynyshir Road. They had been there under different ownership since I was a small boy.
The Junior school was on the opposite side of the narrow main road. On the other corner was 'Brachi's, which later became 'Lewices'.
When I was in the junior school, we would rush to join the mound of bodies jammed into the doorway of the 'Brachi'.
We could by a substance called 'Spanish Root' which tasted like nothing on earth.
I can still smell the sweet icecream as it ran down the sides of steel dishes and mingled with the rivulets of strawberry or chocolate sauce.
I could write about ice cream forever.
My aunt Ruby would send me to the chip shop in current favour. It meant that I was sent to the establishment that doled out the biggest portions of chips that week.
I was sent to the 'bottom' chip as my aunt called it, most often and most weeks. Bino's chips were the best!
I have written a short story called 'Ynyshir Fish and Chips.' There is no space for it here, it goes into greater detail about my Aunt Ruby, my Uncle Fred and my Grandma Jones. Very proud and regal she was, my Grandma Jones.
I can see her now, buttering thick slices of bread in a dark kitchen. Ruby and Fred would stand nearby as I offered up the parcel of fish and chips, which exuded tantalising aromas of warm salt and vinegar.
Aunt Ruby would grab the parcel, quickly unwrap it and there would be a discussion on the quantity and volume of the fish and chips.
Aunt Ruby would grumble, she always grumbled, and the portions of fish and chips would be dutifully doled out.
My eyes would have been used to the gloom after a while and I can remember looking up at 'Polly' an African grey parrot, swinging on his perch in a large cage, suspended above the fire-place.
'Rex' our great, kind mongrel, sat on the Settle by the fire and wagged his tail. He was a 'King of Dogs'. A devoted friend, he followed me everywhere, all his life, right to the end.
I can see now, a vision of the dark kitchen, the glowing embers of the fire, with its warmth, as if it were yesterday, filled with tender memories of what had been and is no longer.