In praise of farm shops

As a city-dweller for 34 years, I am used to the hustle and bustle of other people. Cars, sirens, strangers chatting in the street: it’s the background noise of everyday life, a comforting reminder that you’re never alone. So when I moved to the Suffolk countryside in April last year, I found it a bit of a shock. Pregnant, freelance, with a husband often in London for work, I had a two-year-old for company, few friends and a big empty house overlooking fields, sky – and not much else.

It’s a 20-minute drive to the nearest town, and there’s nothing but a ramshackle pub in walking distance. We switched to online shopping for convenience, so I didn’t even have the weekly trip to the supermarket to fall back on. I was, in short, isolated, bored and very lonely indeed.

Then I discovered my rural lifeline: the local farm shop. I will never forget the first time I stumbled upon it: a cavernous outbuilding adjacent to a working farm, filled with aisle upon aisle of tempting goodies, local produce and a rainbow assortment of fruit and veg.