Hurlstone In Progress: Rootes Grocery Store has fallen, but Co-op has risen 

Rootes Grocery has been reborn – it’s back as a Co-op, with lighting that doesn’t threaten you. 

Yes, the time is now. The new Co-op is established and well-acquainted with students. I entered for the first time expecting to mourn, but I left oddly impressed – and not smelling of starch. It’s like someone took the chaotic but lovable soul of Rootes and sent it on a wellness retreat. Washed its hair, bought it quality makeup, and put it through some kind of therapy. I feel welcome, drawn in. The staff smile more now, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with that.  

As soon as you walk in, you’re met by the ‘hot’ food section – right at the front, a proud trophy case of the best beige delights within a 10-metre radius. It’s confident. Almost brazen. The food all looks the same, but somehow, I want it more. The aisles are wider, the lighting slightly softer, and the atmosphere is less microwave interrogation, more middle-class enlightenment.  

Rootes and I had a complicated relationship – toxic, codependent, financially devastating. But walking into this new Co-op, I couldn’t help but think maybe I’ve moved on. Maybe I’m ready for something normal

The food selection is mostly identical – same sandwiches, same slightly soulless sushi – yet somehow it feels a bit more premium. Everything has been washed of its previous sins, sitting on the shelves in a more relaxed manner and not as if it’s about to come to life and attack. The prices haven’t changed much either, unless you have a Co-op membership. But obviously, no one actually has this because it costs a pound.  

Yes, I feel guilt. Like a traitor, almost. Rootes and I had a complicated relationship – toxic, codependent, financially devastating. But walking into this new Co-op, I couldn’t help but think maybe I’ve moved on. Maybe I’m ready for something normal. It could just be because I no longer live on campus and my relationship with it isn’t defined by desperation – the quivering hands from too much Red Bull, my ever-maddening state caused by an essay deadline hours away. I don’t go to Co-op because I’m on campus. I go because I want to – not because I need to. It’s deep.  

Is this the slow, creeping gentrification of campus life? Maybe I’m being dramatic, but so was Rootes Grocery – there are traditions to be upheld

Still, there’s something eerie about this glow-up. It’s all a bit swanky for a campus that now sends first years to live in Coventry because it’s revamping some accommodation. The death of Whitefields, clashing lectures, bus nightmares – what is Warwick becoming? We don’t need luxury, we need functionality. Rootes and Co-op deliver functionality to an extent, but the prices feel unkind. 

So, are the Co-op’s pristine shelves and normal lighting masking something darker? Is this the slow, creeping gentrification of campus life? Maybe I’m being dramatic, but so was Rootes Grocery – there are traditions to be upheld.  

You’ll find me in the Co-op. I’ll bask in its daytime calm, cleanliness, and non-headache-inducing aroma. But don’t think I’ll forget the magic of what came before. In this ever-changing world, Rootes Grocery walked so Co-op could calmly, quietly glide.