I had a few pints with Ron the other night.
“You’re in a good mood” says I.
“Yeah” says he, “I have seen the light. I’m going eco-friendly and have started going to the Farmers Market”
The Farmers Market is a gathering of stall-holders who set up every couple of weeks to sell their produce. I’ve been quite a few times, and their stuff is great – none of your pre-packaged insecticide ridden, artificially grown, tasteless crap that they sell in the supermarkets.
“You know yer man who runs the stall that sells the cakes?” says Ron. “The tall old fella with the beard. He looks a bit like you but he’s not as cranky.”
“I know him.” I accidentally spilled Ron’s pint onto his lap. “He’s the one who sells the carrot cakes and the tea cakes. They’re quite nice.”
“Apparently his wife bakes them.” says Ron, after he cleaned himself up a bit. “He’s more into the horticulture side of things. But he does the odd bit of baking himself. Next time you are over there, ask him for one of his own cakes. He keeps them under the counter. “
“Oh man,” says he “They’re great. Go easy on ’em though.”
I love country life.