Tuesday, 24 September 2013

Jamie, food politics and Broadway Market


Don't smack the messenger
            While I away in August, a storm was thrown up in a tea cup after comments made by celebrity chef Jamie Oliver.

Now I wasn’t going to sit on a beach and try to respond, but a wander up Broadway Market this morning inspired me to do so.

First – briefly – to the comments that caused an outpouring of ire and calls for boycotts etc of the chef in question. Would that the same people would call for a boycott of Tesco and the like – it would have far more actual meaning.

Of course Oliver isn’t going to ‘understand’ poverty: he hasn’t experienced it. But that is not, believe it or not, actually a fault.

I suspect, as only a slight aside, that he suffers from a rather widespread British attitude of decrying those who are successful by dint of actual talent – an attitude that really needs to be chucked right out of the window.

He made some crass comments – don’t we all – and was crucified for them. On flat-screen tellies, for instance, well try getting one today that isn’t a flat screen, Jamie. And nor are they particularly expensive.

Still, he makes an easy target, even though his heart, as they say, is in the right place.

Those screaming the loudest probably forgot his restaurant scheme to give apprenticeships to young people from underprivileged backgrounds – something that gives them the chance of a good career.

And then there his efforts to start cooking classes in Leeds market for a very small cost – an attempt to make knowledge and skills more accessible. And, of course, his championing of school dinners. He wasn’t alone in the latter, but his very celebrity made a big difference.

He did, however, raise important issues and these need looking at in a rational manner, as Joanna Blythman did here.

In the UK, we have long spent less as a percentage of household income on feeding ourselves than any other country in western Europe. That has decreased further in the last few years.

We have a problem with obesity. We have a problem with malnutrition, including but not limited to elderly patients entering hospital. Rickets has cropped up again, in part because of over-use of very strong sunscreen lotion.

But rickets – for fuck's sake, rickets: in the 21st century, in one of the richest nations on Earth. If that doesn’t indicate a problem, it’s difficult to know what does.

We have foodbanks on the rise and we have Save the Children having to spend money in this country for the first time since it started up.

All these are connected.

They are connected by some very simple facts: that income has gone down for the majority in the last 30 years, while the cost of living has risen massively.

As a debt counsellor that I interviewed late last year stressed, many of the people seeking help are not spending on ‘fripperies’ – whatever the likes of Michael Gove may wish to pretend. They are having to make real choices between food and something else – often fuel.

The welfare wing of the trade union UNISON has seen massive rises in members – in other words, working people – seeking help for debt counselling, for the cost of school uniforms and for help with heating bills and food.

These are working people, remember. People who get up and go out and do a job that is often menial and tough, but frequently undervalued.

According to a tweet from @BBCFood yesterday, food prices have risen 12.6% above inflation in the last six years alone.

The official inflation figures are part of the problem, as they selectively pick only certain aspects of the cost of living. They do not, for instance, include the cost of keeping a roof over your head or the cost of heating and lighting your home, or of the cost of water or of travel to and from work.

When a one-bed flat in Hackney costs £250,000, that should indicate the scale of the problem.

That was the price in a new development of 72 flats, in a trendifying but hardly spectacular area, approximately five years ago. Half the flats had to be ‘affordable’ and were therefore half that figure for ‘key workers’ – so £125,000 if you qualified.

On the old-fashioned understanding that a mortgage should be no more than three times annual household income, that still means a household income was required of £41,666 – which is well above what most UK workers earn.

According to payscale.com, the median salary for an office administrator is just over £16,200. For a PA, just over £24k. For a software engineer, £32,314.

In November of 2012, the Office of National Statistics (ONS) reported that the average UK income for a full-time worker was £26,500. That was a rise of 1.4% in the year to April 2012.

However, inflation over that same period had been 3.5%. Indeed, the ONS went on to state that inflation had outstripped income rises for the past 12 years.

So while pay has pretty much stagnated for all but a few at the top end, the cost of living has risen massively.

And that is at the heart of the problem.

Add in moves from government to further casualise the workforce and you have everything magnified.

It’s now appreciated that a major reason that unemployment has not risen in the way that many economists expected it to since the onset of the financial crisis in 2008, is because of an increase in underemployment, where people have work, so do not count on unemployment figures, even if that work is only for a few hours a week and vastly lower than what they want and need.

The government has, with the acquiescence of the bulk of the mainstream news media, set about demonising anyone on benefits (well, apart from pensioners, although suggestions have been touted of them having to ‘work’ for their state pension) and portraying benefits as a whole as one of the biggest problems that the country faces.

Even though secretary of state for work and pensions Iain Duncan Smith has been caught out being creative with his figures for those he claims are sucking the country dry by living a high life at the taxpayers’ expense (he himself doesn’t count, obviously), many people remain convinced by the views that have been put about.

The facts, though, portray a rather different picture – not least in that the biggest total paid out in benefits is not dole for the feckless, but pensions. And vast swathes of the rest of the benefit bill is paid to people who are in work – and much of that not is paid as housing benefit.

Given the cost of housing, which has risen massively since councils were ordered to sell off council houses cheaply and stop building any more, the state now has to help people simply to keep a roof over their heads.

Further, the bill has risen because, with so little social housing available, it is frequently being paid to private landlords who are charging far, far higher rents than social landlords would.

In response to all this, it’s perhaps hardly surprising that there are even moves to demonise the low paid.

You can hear, quite often, the view expounded that the low-paid only have themselves to blame. If they wanted, so the ‘argument’ goes, they could simply aspire their way into better-paid jobs. It’s a whole new take on the old Victorian belief that poverty was a sign of sinfulness.

It does, of course, ignores at least two points: first, that there are less jobs out there than there are people seeking work and second, that there are very few jobs out there that are provided as an act of charity, and that workers, whether low paid or not, are doing jobs that need doing.

It’s become especially the case with those working in the public services, where the entire ethos of public service has been damned and those providing services attacked as doing ‘non-jobs’.

Well indeed. My bins don’t need emptying; the roads don’t need sweeping; the hospitals and schools don’t need staffing and the streets don’t need policing. And all the people who do these jobs are really only charity cases who wouldn’t find work in the ‘real world’ of the private sector.

Even though, err, they’re increasingly employed by, err, the private sector.

And there has been a complete forgetting of that hackneyed idea that, for a fair day’s work, one might reasonably expect a fair day’s pay.

Attacks on trade unions over the same period of 30 years (no coincidence here) have also had a negative effect on incomes. Trade unions might not, on occasion, have helped themselves, but they have also been on the receiving end of that same mainstream news media, which has reported on them in an unfair manner for purely ideological reasons.

It remains a fact that trade union members tend to have higher incomes than people who are outside unions. No wonder they’re demonised.

The impact of all this is not just felt by those at the bottom of the pile or near it. The impact is felt by everyone in society.

In The Spirit Level, Professor Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett showed that, however counterintuitive it might seem, countries with the widest income gaps have worse results on health, on education, on crime – and many more outcomes. When the gap is smaller, the outcomes – for all in society – are better.

Nobody has been able to concretely refute their findings, yet while politicians cite them, they also plough on regardless, whether through ideological commitment or fear, kowtowing to the demands of big business and big finance, and paying little or no heed to the citizens who make up the electorate.

And here we come back to food.

It is little wonder, given all the above, that many people find themselves unable to afford a decent diet. After all, it’s difficult to cut and then cut again your fuel needs. Or your water needs. Food is not easy to cut, but is easier than those others – if you ignore quality.

The supermarkets play on and profit from this. It doesn’t matter what you feed the plebs, the routine seems to go, as long as you feed them as cheaply as you can – while still making a profit, of course. The horse meat scandal from earlier this year illustrated exactly how the system works.

But the problem is not just one of pay and its relation to the cost of living, although that is a substantial part of it.

Broadway Market, as I’ve said before – including in this interview with the most long-term trader on it – died a death many years ago.

It did so, in essence, because a generation decided, in effect, that it would abandon local, independent shops, and get everything from the big-box supermarket. And because it decided too, that convenience was key and that cost had to be as low as possible.

This is not just about those at the bottom end of the income scale. It's the middle classes, the white-collar workers too.

My mother, for instance, now in her 80s, buys a good deal of ready meals. But since she buys these from M&S, she has convinced herself both that she doesn’t get them from a supermarket and that they are of a quality that is equal to anything that could be cooked from fresh ingredients.

She tells me occasionally, by way of attempting to justify herself, that I won’t want to do much cooking when I'm her age. Given that she has never really liked cooking, and I do, and given that she has long had negative attitudes about any link between food and pleasure that was ‘too great’, and I have no such issues, I suspect (and dearly hope and believe) that she’s wrong.

I also know of a situation (not apocryphal) where a family with the adults in white-collar jobs decided that they had considered that time spent cooking could be far better spent in front of the telly, and that they would feed their child on finger food – take-aways and pizzas cooked in the microwave.

At seven, the child in question could still barely use cutlery.

These are just two anecdotes, but they are an indicator of the scale of the issue.

My parents probably aren’t doing too badly in terms of nutrition. But then again, while they’re far from rich, they don’t have to fret too much about the shopping bill. Many people do. And when the likes of Iceland and Tesco can offer processed food that’s as cheap as chips (so to speak), it’s not difficult to see why they make that choice.

Broadway Market has revived. When I moved into the area, 18 years ago, it was 3/4 dead. When the market started, some people complained – as though not dead was somehow worse than 3/4 dead.

But they also complained at the cost. The ‘£3.50 loaf of bread’ became a symbol of what was happening.

Now I drink and I smoke, and I am not going to start pompously declaring that The Poor should not. Unlike Jamie, I’ve been there and done that, but don’t have the t-shirt simply because all I could afford in those days was so cheap that it faded and went out of shape after a couple of washes.

The poor always end up paying more for things, simply because they cannot go out and buy quality and because they cannot afford to buy decently without gaining credit first. The same even applies to services such as ATMs and utility bills and metering.

But there is also something wrong when someone complains about that loaf of bread – at the same time as drinking one of three pints of Guinness, and smoking.

At a very simple level, why should something that will last most people at least a day cost less than the price of three pints, which won’t? And that’s without considering that the product in question is of a far, far better quality than any loaf that is available, pre-mixed but baked on the premises, at the street’s chain bakery?

Nobody is forced to buy that £3.50 loaf – not least because the £1.85 wholemeal loaf that never really goes off is just as available as it was before the market started up, at the same chain bakery that was there before and is still there.

Our expectations of food prices are skewed by an unhealthy attitude toward it: by a belief that it’s only fuel and that we don’t want to invest time, let alone money, in it.

In such a circumstance, complaining about the cost of food becomes at least as problematic as the relationship between pay and the cost of living.

As I’ve illustrated in the past, ready-made meals are not cheap – contrary to popular belief. I’ve shown, in basic experiments recorded on this blog, that you can often make at least the same, from fresh, quality ingredients, for either the same money or little more.

I’ve illustrated, for instance, that 100% venison burgers from Broadway Market, served with chips and peas, are cheaper than a McDonalds meal – a meal that even many on low incomes will regard as an affordable treat.

In opting for the supermarkets, we have, culturally, abandoned and largely lost the knowledge and skills that saw our grandparents know how to cook a cheap cut of meat for a big family.

Supermarkets concentrate on selling prime cuts. They don’t sell cheap cuts for a reason. They barely even bother to sell offal – but equally, how many people go: ‘offal? Urgh, I don’t eat that’? It’s nutritious, it’s tasty – and for goodness sake, it’s cheap!

There are very real and major issues that are affecting millions in terms of the cost of living and incomes. But they are not the whole of the problem and it is frankly patronising to those on low incomes to pretend that they are, and that everything that is wrong can be righted by a rant at a successful celebrity chef.

I’m personally all in favour of keeping the state out of as much as possible. But as the horse meat scandal showed, as the banking crisis showed and as the ongoing behaviour of the bulk of the mainstay news media shows, regulation is crucial for the benefit of the majority of us.

Government needs to remember its responsibilities to all the population and to put the interests of the majority at the top of the agenda – not those of multi and trans-national corporations that have no loyalty to any nation and any group of people other than their shareholders.

A mixed economy needs businesses and it needs successful businesses. But it does not need the demands of just the biggest businesses being met at the expense of everyone else.

In the long term, most would agree that the UK’s economy needs rebalancing away from an over-reliance on retail and services. In the shorter term, we need to restore consumer confidence.

And we need to get people into work, in jobs that pay a decent, living wage, which then allows them to be self-reliant and to contribute to their own local economies, thus boosting further employment and the national economy as a whole. This is infinitely more sensible than trying to return to the disaster of running a national economy on cheap credit.

A low-wage, casualised economy may be good for some of the biggest businesses, but it is not good for the country as a whole; for the national economy as a whole.

And it is not good for the nation’s diet, which itself can cause increased costs to the taxpayer as bad nutrition takes its toll.

But that cannot be seen in isolation: we also have to stop seeing food simply as fuel; we need to learn again to cook and, wherever possible, support local shops that will also then serve us better in return: a small business cannot afford to easily screw its customers – it’s that simple an equation.

We also need to seriously start looking at sustainability, both of food and of jobs.

For those on the lowest incomes, we need to stop pretending that they shouldn’t even have a television or a phone: try living without the latter especially, given how many zero-hours employers, for instance, insist that you’re at their beck and call, 24/7. Try applying for jobs – or increasingly, benefits – without computer access.

The idea that it is feckless to possess such things, many of which are increasingly becoming basics within our culture, is not only ridiculous and devoid of an understanding of the realities of modern life, it also misses the point in spectacular fashion.

We need better wages for the majority and we need to deal with the cost of living. We could approach the latter by a serious building programme of social housing, which will then help the former by employing many thousands at decent pay for the work they’re doing.

Personally, I’d suggest renationalising all utilities, and seeing them run for the benefit of the country as a whole and not just a few shareholders.

After WWII, the UK borrowed in order to invest – and produced the prosperity of the 1950s and beyond. At present, interest rates are so low that this is exactly the time to do so again to help get the country back on its feet.

The current government has, after all its austerity, merely made the deficit worse than when it took office.

Broadway Market is a revaluation compared to what it was just a decade ago. But the tragedy with what passes for the food revival in the UK is that is almost exclusively a middle-class issue.

The revival has also brought with it new problems – not least in terms of vastly inflated property prices and rents.

Henry Tidiman has finally been able to sell up. Shortly after our interview, he fell ill. In the intervening months, friends have run the shop for a few hours, a few days a week. Finally, it has been bought – and will become another restaurant.

Broadway Market is about to lose its last butcher. Which is a tragedy. And it illustrates that we need planning regulations that do not work against diversity in a community, but help it. There’s a place for a butcher here – okay, not as it used to be, perhaps, but one that takes account of new markets and new attitudes and the changing local demographic.

Just as the street has revived – it has even got a fishmonger and a new (organic) greengrocer – we lose our butcher.

Henry deserves his retirement – he’s worked damned hard for it and I hope it’s a long and healthy one.

But this community deserves a butcher too. A real butcher. Not just a once-a-week market butcher, but one who can cater for the old-time residents as well as the new ones who are moving in.

Would it really be so difficult?

We have a wonderful food heritage in the UK. We have some wonderful foods. That should not be the sole domain of the well-to-do and the trendy.

But the reasons that this situation has occurred are manifold, and laziness and a lack of concern for food and a lack of concern for and awareness of our culture and basic economic realities are part of them. And it would be foolish to pretend otherwise. Or to concomitantly pretend that the solutions only lie with government and regulation, just as it would be foolish to pretend that the solutions are only to do with personal, individual behaviour.

The solutions lie with government – and with each and every one of us, and with every basket of shopping that we buy. And with every meal that we cook.

And in the meantime, let's stop getting bloody distracted by a few crass comments from a man whose heart is, as I said earlier, ultimately in the right place.

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Junk culture


Fine in a fritter, but not in the inbox
One of the greatest delights – I use the word loosely – on returning home after any sort of trip away, is the Everest of mail that has accumulated.

Wading through, it’s quickly clear that the overwhelming majority of the pile is utter and complete junk.

When I’m ‘in residence’, the chances are that I’ll unlock the door every evening to find that, if there is anything on the mat, it’ll be yet more junk.

Now I know that the flats stand on the site of a scrap yard, but the amount of crap that lands through the door is just taking the piss.

Given the number of trees that have been sacrificed to tell me that there are special offers at pizza and kebab and fried ‘chicken’ outlets, plus the menus from Indian and Chinese home-delivery takeaways, you could be forgiven for thinking we must be surrounded by them, which is not quite the case.

Is there some sort of equation that balances the number of ‘jobs’ created for people to shove such junk through doors with the impact on the environment of all this printed dross?

Would the economy actually suffer if all this rubbish simply wasn't even printed any more?

Not that it’s just junk food that’s advertised on the junk mail.

We get assorted other offers and opportunities, including quite a few from varied flavours of the God Squad. There may be few old-fashioned churches in the area, but those rather more modern evangelical, all-singing, all-dancing congregations are on the rise, meeting in everything from community centres to former industrial units.

Still, at least if they’re shoving stuff through the door, they’re not actually knocking on it. Although they do that too on occasion.

There are few political callers, even at election time: perhaps they're all too embarrassed.

But junk mail is hardly limited to what comes through the letter box.

I doubt that I’m alone in getting irritated by online junk mail – or spam, as it’s often known. And it’s not limited to stuff appearing in my inbox.

Facebook has become particularly bad, with ‘suggested posts’ cluttering up timelines.

These seem to largely consist in advertising absolute tosh. The ones I get are particularly of the get-very-slim-very-quickly variety.

And I get more, presumably because a bit of software somewhere has noted that I comment on them – which is sort of amusing, because what it appears not to spot is that my approach is of commenting that they’re exploitative, snake oil bullshit.

It frankly astonishes me that these con merchants are even allowed to advertise. I suspect, though, that they’re mostly not based in the UK and are not, therefore, liable to UK laws on protection of consumers.

Still, as long as Facebook is making money out of ‘companies’ exploiting vulnerable people …

And let’s be completely clear about this: the people who will respond are vulnerable. You have to have reached a point of desperation where you’ll try anything to conform to societal expectations that are frequently completely unrealistic and even downright unhealthy to respond to such ads.

You can not, as one advert suggests, lose 30kg of “belly fat” in just a few weeks. That’s something like three of the biggest bags of cat litter I can get – and there are not many people who will be carry that as “belly fat”.

And if they were, no doctor on planet Earth would recommend trying to shed it all in something like three months by taking some crackpot supplement that’s probably about as efficacious as if they were made of the same sawdust that finds its ways into the counterfeit fags that are made in China.

Then there is all the spam for ghastly-looking leggings that apparently “burn calories”. No. No they don’t. That’s as impossible as muscle turning into fat.

How do people get to make such patently false claims – openly and in public, and then charge the vulnerable/gullible? Oh, and it’s fine to say people should exercise personal responsibility, but why not some business responsibility too?

Some businesses that make false claims get dealt with – they get dragged into court and are penalized when trading standards can get hold of them.

Yet patently false, exploitative spam is not merely allowed in social media, it’s foisted onto your personal timeline.

Now I appreciate that Facebook needs to make money – it’s not a charity. And I have no issue with that. But as far as I was aware, it was making money – and plenty of it – before it decided to foist spam on people in this way.

This isn’t about freedom of speech – it’s about patently false advertising claims.

So, what to do about this deluge of crap.

I am wondering whether to put one of those labels on the letterbox at home: the one that says: ‘no unsolicited mail’.

And if I then continue to get flyers from estate agents who desperately want me to let them sell my home, I’ll pop them back in a postbox with a fucking brick attached and the postage unpaid.

But since I use Facebook, in part at least, for work-related matters, it’s not simply a case of stopping using it.

Perhaps Facebook would like to operate a little bit of corporate responsibility, for a change? It’s a nice thought.

And while we’re at it, what about all the free bloody magazines and newspapers?

I actually got on a bus one night in London a few years ago (on the way home from a Divine Comedy gig in Camden, as it happens, with the excellent Duke Special as support) to find that the bus was almost knee deep in discarded such freebies.

Only a few mornings ago, coming down some steps near Euston station, I was faced with three people trying to shove three different publications into my hand from right, left and directly in front of me.

That was after someone standing outside WH Smith tried to hand a leaflet for weight loss.

Is all this throw-away matter indicative of a generalised junk culture? I leave the answer to you, but it does feel like it at times.

Monday, 16 September 2013

North and south on a plate


Boles de picolat
It seems almost impossible that only just over a week ago, the days were still sunny and hot, with humid nights.

It’s perfectly possible that such weather could return to grant us an Indian summer, but at present, it feels very much autumnal.

The nights are lengthening and the days shortening. The tipping point cannot be far away.

As we emerged from the British Museum on Friday evening at around 7.20pm, it was already pretty much dark, and rain was pitching down.

It didn’t stop until the following morning, yet there was something comforting in hearing the rhythmic pattering outside as I curled up in bed later.

The temperature has dropped and, while it’s not actually cold, it’s a lot cooler. The weekend saw more rain and some pretty blustery wind, largely grey skies, and the first signs of yellowing leaves on the two tall, slender silver birches in the carpark.

When all this is happening, the last thing you want to eat is salad.

I had already contacted Longwood Farm early last week, deciding that a slow Sunday afternoon cook was perfect and could easily be done again.

This time, it was shin of beef and beef kidney for a Vlaamse Stoverij, the Flemish dish that we first ate in Bruges 18 months ago.

The meats are diced and sautéed, followed by onion, carrot and celery. Everything goes into the big Le Creuset pot and is topped with three bay leaves, a sprig of thyme and a slice of bread, spread on one side with mustard.

Then it’s all covered with beer, lidded, and popped into the oven.

I stuck with the 160˚C (fan) from last week’s casserole and cooked it for approximately four hours.

Shin has to be cooked for a long time so that all the connective tissue beaks down, but it’s a cheap and tasty cut – and not one you’ll easily find in a supermarket.

And that was pretty much that.

But if Sunday’s dish evoked northern Europe, and that fluid region where the northernmost part of France meets the south of Belgium, Saturday’s food was all of the south.

I have cooked Boles de Picolat before, but only from that sort of point where you’ve never tasted a dish and are, ultimately, guessing what it should be like.

After our experience at Le Marinade, I decided to give it another whirl.

As with so much traditional food, there is no one cast-in-stone way of doing it.

Between French-language Catalan recipe books and a recipe postcard, I have five recipes – and all are different. One even calls for a small cup of coffee to be added.

The nearest coffee came to my version was the mug beside me as I spent an amiable hour or so studying the recipes on Saturday morning. After that, the books were put away and I worked from the memory of that meal in Collioure, taking a general sense of all the written recipes I’d looked at and combining it with the fact that meatballs are something I consider myself rather good at.

Figs, raspberries, blackberries, cream
So, for two of us, I used 400g of mince.

Now it should have been a mixture of beef and pork (some recipes also use sausage meat or substitute it for the pork), but since no pork mince was forthcoming, I stuck with beef, without too much sense of major loss.

Two small slices of bread were soaked in a small amount of milk and then added to the meat, together with an egg.

Normally, I don't add milky bread or eggs to meatballs – they do not need it to bind – but these ingredients do help to make a particularly light meatball, and the Le Marinade experience suggested that this is what you want for Boles de Picolat.

The flavourings that were added were a good shake of smoky paprika, a little cinnamon and slightly less ginger. You just want a hint of spice to come through.

Once thoroughly mixed together and shaped into balls, these are rolled in plain flour and browned in olive oil.

Okay, I don’t usually flour my meatballs either, but when the mixture is this soft, it helps with the initial cooking. One of the recipes, clearly aimed at rather inexperienced cooks, offered a ‘tip’ in a sidebar, explaining how to four your meatballs by rolling them on a plate of flour. Rocket science.

Once browned, set the balls to one side.

Add a little more oil if you need, and soften a diced onion and some finely chopped garlic. I added a stick of finely chopped celery too.

Give it a very, very large squeeze of tomato purée – we’re probably talking half a 100g tube here – and stir gently into a little warm stock (I had a small jar of defrosted homemade chicken stock that was perfectly okay).

To all that, add some dried mushrooms, a cinnamon stick, some ground black pepper and some finely-chopped flat leaf parsley. Pop the meatballs back, lid it and cook gently for about half an hour.

At this point, test for seasoning and add salt if needed, then add a drained and rinsed tin of haricot or cannellini beans, and some drained green olives. Pop the lid back on and give it a further 30 minutes.

Serve in bowls with the broth, and top with more finely-chopped flat leaf parsley.

And that is that: easy and very tasty.

I might not seem as obviously ‘southern’ as, say, a ratatouille or a bourride, but it is every bit as much indicative of a region that includes mountain country as well as the coast and the plain.

Perfect Sunday brunch
As a fusion of north and south though, a quick Nigel Slater dessert of figs, served with clotted cream and a scatter of raspberries would take some beating – perfect at this time of year, and you could easily substitute blackberries for the raspberries depending on taste and availability.

The final food note for an autumnal weekend that is worth a mention is the joys of a decent home-cooked English brunch late on a Sunday morning, after a delicious doze snuggled beneath the covers.

Downland’s marmalade sausages and a huge, halved tomato were grilled, while tinned (sorry) mushrooms were cooked in butter.

Three eggs were scrambled in more butter and were served on real fried bread – cooked in lard, in other words.

The only other addition was HP sauce.

North or south, it’s good to remember that, even as you mourn the passing of summer, autumn has many glories and pleasures to offer.