Sometimes I feel a bit sorry for my country cousins.
They may have fresher air than us city dwellers, but their choice of foodstuffs is extremely limited. They have their farm shops with their lonely chutneys and dirty carrots. There is the occasional box of six eggs sitting on a stone wall next to an honesty tin. There are overpriced sausage vendors such as Daylesford Organic, and the bland, refrigerated offerings of a Tesco superstore. All accessible only by