I’ve lived in Louth for about three years now. I’m not from here. I grew up in Binbrook, and my dad passed away when I was coming up to three years old. After that, life changed quite a lot. Mum met someone who was in the RAF, which meant we moved around a bit and spent two years living in Germany. When all of that eventually settled, I ended up back in Lincolnshire, carrying a mix of places and experiences that never quite felt tied to one town.
Wayne, my partner of 12 years, was born and grew up here in Louth. This is his home in a way it isn’t mine. He moved away for a while to live with me, and after a few years we came back here together. In August 2025, he opened The Pan Yard as a home takeaway. Wayne does all the cooking — and I handle the collections, opening the door and handing orders over as people arrive.
Even after three years, Louth still doesn’t feel like i belong. I don’t know its rhythms in the way people who grew up here do. I don’t have childhood memories tied to its streets or shops. But standing at the door a few evenings a week has given me a different way of experiencing it — not through places, but through people.
Most collections are quick. People arrive, say hello, take their pizza, and head off again. Some stop for a short chat, others don’t say much at all. And that’s completely fine. There’s no expectation to perform or linger — it’s just a small interaction in the middle of someone’s evening. But over time, you start recognising faces. You notice familiar nods, repeat names on orders, neighbours who were once unsure but now come back without thinking twice.
Seeing new customers give us a try is always nice, but it’s the returning ones that really matter. That’s when it feels like The Pan Yard is doing what we hoped it would do. We never wanted it to feel awkward or unusual to order from a home takeaway. We want it to feel normal. Comfortable. Like something you can rely on without overthinking it.
There’s something quietly reassuring about that. About knowing people are choosing us again, fitting us into their routines, trusting what we’re doing. It doesn’t come with big conversations or dramatic moments — it shows up in small ways, again and again.
Handing over a pizza might seem like nothing, but it’s a moment of contact in people’s day. A hello. A smile. A familiar face at the door. In just a few months since The Pan Yard started, those small moments — the repeat customers, the nods, the brief exchanges — have made the whole thing feel worthwhile. Not in a big, dramatic way. Just in a quiet, human one.
If you’ve never ordered from us before, this is probably the hardest bit — deciding to give a home takeaway a go. We get that. But it really is as simple as ordering online, turning up, and picking up your food. No awkwardness. No pressure. Just good food, made carefully, and handed over by someone who’s glad you came. And if you do try us once and come back again, that’s the biggest compliment we could ask for.
Vee.
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