Archive for the 'England' Category

A Stranger’s Childhood in Pictures

About 18 months ago, mooching round a charity shop in Crystal Palace I came across a box of 35mm colour slides. They seemed to depict roughly a year or two in someone’s life. There were summer holidays, Bank holidays, donkey rides, church services, day trips to a zoo and an ornamental garden, family gatherings and finally Christmas dinner. The woman in the shop didn’t know where they’d come from, ‘perhaps a house clearance’ she said.

They’re amazing. This is what photography used to be like for most people. You took the camera out when there was an ‘occasion’ as getting film processed was a bit of a luxury. It’s the sort of photography I grew up with, what is jokingly referred to as ‘Christmas on each end of the film, summer holiday in the middle’. If you grew up in the late 60s/early 70s, you’re childhood probably looked like this too. When you like at images like these, you can squint and almost imagine your family members in the picture.

As this statistic from the National Media Museum says.

‘In 1979 amateurs took an estimated 750 million photographs. By then there were 10 million snap shooters …. Most used between one and three rolls of film a year’

Last November the number of uploaded Flickr images passed the 2 billion mark (in just four years). That’s progress after all, to quote Mat Locke talking about his own kids’ use of technology: ‘What we carved out of rock they take as landscape

We photograph everything these days; we’ve made our whole lives one long ‘occasion’. But when you look at these found images, you see not only the rapid change in how we used photography, but how rapidly we’ve changed as a society and as a Nation too.

Anyway, I was planning to do something clever and creative with them, but I (well actually Lee!) never got round to it. So instead, here they are, released under CC (Attribution-NonCommercial) for what ever you’d like to do with them.

Below are some of my favourites. (Full set here) If you recognise a place (or a face!) in any of them, please at a note/geo-tag in Flickr.

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 130People made their own music

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 125Spain had just become affordable as a holiday destination

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 114

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 112People still went to Church

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 105Christmas Dinner was still a free for all.

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 058 Most people holidayed in the UK

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 096HMS Victory ( I think)

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 083 Twister was the new crazed

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 061The Bugle in Hamble (Still there) and super weirdly I went there the week before I bought these slides.

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 138The average family gathering, with tea

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 034Anyone recognise the make of car?

A Stranger's Childhood in Picture - 011Look at the dresses, the decor, the hair!

The tale of the Manchester sausage

O'Hagans sausage shop

Today marks the start of British Sausage Week, with events happening up and down the country. Ahh, the sausage. Never has a product been so debased. When a sausage is good, made from proper cuts of meat, there’s few things in life finer. But when a sausage comes frozen from a bag of 20 for £1.99 and made up of ‘lips and arseholes’ and bulked out with water, there’s not much worse.

According to the British Sausage Week website PDF, sausages are the number-one ‘in­home meal’ (ahead of the cheese and ham sandwich?!). Furthermore, Most people will grow up eating the one type of sausage that their parents bought. However, marriage is a turning point when both people bring their own ideas about sausages. This leads to the joy of joint experimentation and discovery!” Now, marriage is a turning point for a lot of things, but sausage experimentation? To think of newlyweds up and down the land exploring each other’s sausage habits raises a smile.

Anyway, I’ve a bit of previous in the hunt for good sausage. In the summer I bought some sausages from O’Hagans in Chichester. They were big, thick and meaty like a fat four-year-old’s arm, not those skinny pink things you see in the shops, and they formed the bulk of a BBQ I did at a friend’s house. Not a puff of smoke came off that BBQ; no ruptured cases, no spitting, no dripping fat. When cut open they revealed very fine chopped-up meat and recognisable pieces of herbs, not that spongy grey honeycomb paste that seems to make up most modern sausages.O’Hagans offer a huge range of tastes and flavours, including kangaroo and duck. And elsewhere I’ve even found a recipe for seafood sausage and even a League of Gentlemen sausage.

But this is British Sausage Week, so let’s be traditional. Most people know about the Cumberland – the long curled-up sausage flavoured with pepper – which is apparently applying for a PDO request. And some may even know about the Linclonshire, flavoured with sage. Fewer still may know of the Oxford sausage – skinless and flavoured with herbs and lemon, it’s an effete sort of a sausage in my opinion. But did you know about the Manchester sausage? That’s right – Manchester has its own sausage, too, and I bought some the other day while up north, from Homestead Farm Shop, Pott Shrigley, Macclesfield.

So what’s in a Manchester sausage, you ask? Well, the key ingredients are nutmeg and mace, finely ground pork, salt and white pepper, and that’s about it. The only reference to it on the internet that I can find is in the Greater Manchester section of this PDF from the Lancashire tourist board.

They’re made on Gabbotts Farm, to a recipe that goes:
“Our Dad’s is a fine textured pork sausage
seasoned with liberal amounts of white pepper, mace
and nutmeg – The original Manchester sausage!”

Joyce Dalton, who served me at the Homestead farm shop, says it’s from an 18th Century recipe book that belonged to a fellow sausage-maker, and he never let anybody look at it. Eventually he retired to Australia and said to his friends, “You can have ten minutes with the book”, at which they frantically wrote down a few recipes including the one for the Manchester Sausage before the book was packed in a tea chest, shipped away, and started a new life Down Under. Wonder where it is now…

There’s a recipe for Cumberland here that uses nutmeg and mace, but the Manchester tasted nothing like the Cumberlands I’ve had, having far less pepper and far more nutmeg. Nutmeg also features in the recipe for the Oxford, and this one and this daft American one, along with cayenne pepper and casings.

There’s nary a mention of the Manchester sausage on the website for the Manchester Food and Drink festival, which comes to a close this Monday, but it could have appeared at any of these sausagethemed events. There is, however, this amusing example of sausage misuse:

Pork cassoulet plus a bottle of cider for £7.50!
Odd Bar, Northern Quarter – Only during the Festival, Odd’s Amazing Pork Cider Cassoulet with a bottle of Magner’s Cider will cost you £7.50! Fresh, local pork marinated in Magner’s Cider with chunks of chorizo, lamb & mint sausage, potatoes and flava beans served with crusty bread and a bottle of Magners on the side.

So that’s a French dish consisting of English pork marinated in Irish cider with Spanish sausage, lamb and mint sausage (Welsh in influence), beans and potatoes?! And served with more Irish cider. That’s not cassoulet, that’s Eurostew!

Anyway, try and find some interesting and well-made sausages from British Sausage Week, and keep an eye out for the Manchester. Or visit, buy all the bits and make your own.

Surfing, on a whim and a wave.

Friday night 8pm in the Kings Arms, Roupell Street SW1. Toya and Dan yesterday took delivery of a circa 1980 Renault Trafic ‘Miami’ Autosleeper campervan they’ve christened Gary Claude Van Gary, and are planning to go surfing tomorrow. “You guys should come!” mrs e looks at me, I cancel a few other social arrangements, and suddenly I’m planning a trip to North Devon to go surfing….Dude.

Being a child of the various great metropolises of this fair Nation, most of which are land locked by about 70 miles, I never got to do surfing as a younger lad, water sports consisted of school trips to Lake Windermere for a spot of kayaking. If you were from the city you did skateboarding, if you were from the countryside, especially the South West then you did Surfing, and if you still called your parents Mummy and Daddy into your teens you were probably posh and went skiing or snowboarding.

Friday night 11.59pm Pissed packing while trying to eat fish and chips. 7am start. After a nightmare 6 hours on the M4 and M5 we arrive at Staunton Sands, [live webcam] big long beach, plenty of room and for £50 hire two wetsuits and boards from Surfed Out for two half days (Where bizzarly the owner has the same name as me!)

The forecast was ‘messy’ so after a 30 second lesson from James, another friend who came along, we were in. The first 20 mins you’re just practicing staying balanced while lying on the board. After a while I managed to ride a couple in successfully, I only managed to pop up onto my knees once though. I had a great time, and would certainly do it again, perhaps with an instructor, but as a taste for the waves, this got me hooked. When you first ride on one, moving only by the power of the sea you get that ‘I’m doing it!’ feeling that you got when your Dad taught you to ride a bike.

We were staying the night at Lobb Fields Campsite – I wouldn’t recommend it, but then I wouldn’t recommend camping full stop. The reception at Lobb Fields has every square inch covered in prohibitive signs. ‘Disposable BBQ’s are not allowed unless on a stand’ ‘Dogs must be kept on leads’ ‘all visitors MUST report to reception’ ‘No children’s ballgames near the toilet block’ ‘All pitches to be vacated at 10:30am’ it’s all about as welcoming as the face of the woman behind the desk, who must have been the inspiration for Roz in Monsters Inc. We weren’t allowed to pitch our tents near the van as ‘it’s against the law!’ So me and mrs e plus James paid a total of £36 for the privilege of pitching two tents on a 9’ by 9’ patch of mud, pitch 67 a.k.a the Quagmire suite, she actually sold it on the fact it was handy for the communal toilets and showers – oh joy!.

A quick shower, a change of clothes and a stiffener in Gary van Claude Gary – which was cosy and snug, and we headed into Braunton for pie and mash at the George and a night cap and a game of arrows at the White Lion,before returning to the ‘Gate Locked at 10pm sharp!’ and ‘no noise after 11pm’ campsite.

God I hate camping, I hate everything about it. ‘It’s only for one night’ I kept telling myself. The weather didn’t help, it was a windy nights, and when it wasn’t windy, it was raining. It was like sleeping in a tumble dryer, only not warm and fluffy. In the end I got out and slept for a few hours in the car. I awoke to see the place in the slate grey light of dawn. Hell, I’m in hell. I wouldn’t mind sleeping in a tent if when I unzipped the door I was looking at the foothills of the Himalayas, the alien vista of Tierra del Fuego, or the majestic Rocky Mountains. What I don’t want to see it a patch of muddy ground leading to the loos on my left and a big white grockle box on my right. Slowly the campsite wakes up, what I thought for a second was a cockerel crowing turned out to be a child crying. Women in the dressing gowns trudged through the mud to the communal showers clutching a basin full of last nights washing up to do. Misery, misery was etched on to everyone’s face, this is a British refugee camp I thought. To think some people work 50 weeks a year, 350 days to come to this… I’d have a 16 gauge buried under my nose if I had to do two weeks here. Can you tell I really don’t like camping?

So, a bit stiff from a bad nights sleep I pull on a damp cold wetsuit and we head back out to the beach, it’s really windy on the Sunday and we both get battered even more, it’s still great fun and I manage to ride one or two in, as well as improve my paddling. After about an hour we call it a day, and get a hot tasty pasty and a coffee from the two bright young things manning the café hut. All the locals we meet looks fresh faced, fit and healthy, no one has that pallid stale look of a Londoner, must be the sea air? I was surprised to see that all sorts of people were surfing, mum’s and dad’s, old guys, girls (wet suits make women look hot!), there was no of the ‘you’re not cool enough’ vibe or mocking of newbies, everyone was really chilled and nice.

So, in short, I’ll be back… in a B&B or cottage…. real soon.

BBC London boy Barbet goes bigtime on breakfast!


Thought I’d overslept this morning as I turned on the TV to hear BBC London presenter Matt Barbet, must be the 8 o’ clock bulletin… But wait! He’s on the sofa with national sex bomb Suzanna Reid?! Confused first thing in the morning?! I was. He did the show on Saturday, perhaps as a screen test. Matt’s very popular with the ladies too apparently, there’s an interview with him here.

So it would seem King Durmers has an heir apparent! Wonder what Susanna thought, was it me or did I detect a slight hand holding? Heading up the flagship morning show is a lot harder than reading the news in the regional bulletins. You’ve got to have charm, wit, and be able to think on your feet. I thought he handled the interview with Barbara Pointon about her husband’s death from Alzheimer’s very well. I also thought she was an incredibly strong and brave woman, all credit to her for being in the film, natch certain groups are up in arms, despite Barbara defending the film maker.

I’ve noticed on Breakfast that when the interview is with a high ranking politician, it’s always seems to be Bill or Durmot who does the interview, I wonder if there’s a hierarchy?

So well done Matt, local boy done good (even though he’s from Cheshire) And here’s siren Susanna thrashing grandpa Bill on the Wii, (back to the bee’s billy!) And some images of her in full flow.

Let there be light…The end of an era.

Lambeth council finally finished installing new street lights along the length of Gipsy Hill this week. A job they started in November 2006! Well done Lambeth, only took you eight months! I wonder what will happen to the old 60s concrete ones? The replacements are design to look Victorian as Gipsy Hill is a conservation area.

There’s a lot in the news at the moment looking at Britain’s recent architectural past and what should be saved or flattened. The 60s and 70s now seem a very long way away, coupled with the change in Prime Minister maybe we’re mentally and physically spring cleaning our society ready for – shudder – a new era? Look at the Millennium Dome, at last seeming to find a true purpose as proper music venue. Mr Brown constantly sells the image of Modern Britain, not a city of Europe but of the World, it’s what won us the Olympics.

A few months ago I read a guide to the South Bank when it was first opened as the Festival of Britain in a second hand bookshop. It described what was coming as ‘A New Elizabethan Age’, as the current Queen had recently come to the throne, strange how that term didn’t really catch on. We don’t seem to measure ‘ages’ in Royal reigns anymore but in other things…. like lampposts.

Streats of London – a photoset on Flickr

Haunch of Venison Yard

Streats of London – a photoset on Flickr

Stumbled on this on Flickr whilst doing some foodie research, it’s a great little project looking a time when street names reflected the contents of what what sold on them. He’s not taken Poultry yet though, home to the Coq d’Argent, but you got to love Haunch of Venison Yard as a name though – class.

eye on food: Priory Free Range Foods

Sow and Piglets
Mark and Heather Thorogood’s organic shop is run out of the pantry at the side of their house in Lincolnshire. It’s dark and cool inside, and although at this time of year it’s no cornucopia, Mark’s still got the basics for sale – three different types of potato, carrots, leeks, cauliflowers, and such. He’s bang out of onions, mind, though he even goes so far as to see if he’s got any of his own I can have (he’s all out too). But what he has got plenty of is fantastic organic pork. Sausages – regular pork ones and the traditional Lincolnshire (flavoured with sage), loin, shoulder and leg cuts, and a sublime looking piece of belly pork, with the ribs still on.I’m in the area for a self-catering weekend away with my sister, brother-in-law and two nieces. And rather than do the shopping at the Sleaford branch of Sainsbury’s, I thought I’d take the time to find some local produce. I found Priory Free Range foods via, which lets you find local producers near any UK postcode. Mark’s also got a good website, with video and images. This is because his other job is as a web developer, but more on that later. In the meantime, he’s offered to show me around. We leave Mark’s house and walk over to his small-holding, which must be all of ten metres from his shop. It’s about the size of two football pitches, not huge, surrounded by large hedgerows planted by Heather’s grandfather years ago.

One by one we meet the animals, First up, Luther the Wiltshire stud ram, who’s got another year left of ‘work’, as well as a couple of ewes. Mark explains: “All our lamb was sold in a day. We only had a handful of animals and we sold the lot. People were buying half an animal at a time, it’s really that good. We kept one leg back for ourselves, which we saved for some foodie friends.” Next to Lothario Luther’s pen is the first of three large old mobile homes, which, à la Jimmy’s Farm, have been converted into chicken coops.Free range Chickens

”We did build a chicken coop at first, but it came out at around £500 for the materials, then you’ve got to build it. I can get one of these for £200 and they’re ready to go, and the chickens love them”. Mark has two breeds of chicken on his land, the Maran Noire and Black Rocks on his farm. The Black Rock in particular, according to this site is apparently ‘the ideal free-range layer. It loves the outside’. (You’d think every breed of chicken would love the free-range life, given the chance?)

Mark’s got his chickens in groups of around fifty. This, he explains, means they can form a social group where everyone knows their place and the animals don’t get confused. It’s the opposite of a pecking order, because you don’t want birds pecking each other, which is what happens if they’re grouped in large numbers. As we’re walking on, a chicken darts out of the hedgerow, “One’s escaped!” I say. “It’s not one of mine,” says Mark. “I call this chicken Foxy Lady. She’s actually escaped from a larger, more industrial chicken farm about half a mile up the road. Normally the foxes would have had her in a day or two, but some how she’s surviving. I should do something about her as I’d rather she didn’t get too near mine, but I can’t bring myself to.” Mark hasn’t had to deal with any fox intrusions yet, and so doesn’t shoot or try to trap them. But he does dread the day one gets into his coop and action has to be taken, so I point out that most foxes have probably moved to the city to pull apart the remains of KFC chickens. In a way, I imagine having your chickens in lots of small groups, surrounded by other larger animals, might offer a natural form of protection, especially when it’s Luther the Ram and Boris the Welsh Boar, who we meet next…

Boris the boar

He looks like his namesake Boris Johnson, with his blond hair and robust inquisitive attitude – an approach that sees him take a shine to my K-Swiss trainers, which he promptly tries to eat. My nieces (Hannah, aged 4 and Jessie, aged 2) and brother-in-law Vinny who’ve accompanied me on the trip take a closer look before we move on to his progeny. (see top image)Mark and my family

“We’ve not lost one this year,” Mark points out. “Sometimes the mother can roll over one, or we might have a runt, but this year we’ve got them all.” The sow looks a picture of contentment, wallowing in the mud under the broad Lincolnshire sky while the piglets dare to come near the electrified wire to investigate my nieces. Mark leaves his piglets for around 10 weeks, while in industrial pig production it can be as little as 3.5 weeks. This all adds cost, mind. As a sausage maker said to me at the Abergavenny food festival last year, “That pig’s had two years of the best room and board imaginable at my expense. Now that’s reflected in the taste, mind, but also in the price.” (To read about the dark side, i.e. mainstream pig rearing, see giving Boris a back run

The visit winds up and we start walking back to the shop, finally passing a vegetable plot about the size of two tennis courts where Mark grows all his veg. “We’ve just had the sprouting broccoli up as the weather’s been so good,” he says. “Ooh, can I have some?” I ask. “Sorry, it’s all gone,” says Mark. We stop to talk about his attitude to farming, and Mark points to the hawthorn hedgerows that surround his land, planted by Heather’s grandfather. “This is important. Look at this, we’ve got weeds and bluebells and lady birds.”

We look across to his neighbour, George Adams’ pork processing plants. Now I’ve not (knowingly) tried any of Mr Adams’ pork products so I can’t comment on their taste, but their operation seems a world away from Mark’s despite being just next door. According to JSR Genetics they were instrumental in the development of the Adams Titan, bred ‘to improve carcass yield in the most expensive cuts’. And that they’re ‘a vertically-integrated business’? Futhermore, according to Sainsbury’s have chosen this unique genotype for their ‘Taste the Difference’ pork range, specially selected for its exceptional meat-eating quality and tenderness’.And that is what us city folk have demanded, right? We say we want taste but we don’t want fat, we want it when we want it, and we want it at a rock-bottom price. JSR also produce Prosperm, which I suppose is like Wellman supplements for boars. I’m not saying they’re in any way bad; it’s just that these two neighbours show the different sides to modern food production.I’m not trying to paint a romantic picture here of part-time small-holdings.

I fully realise that the countryside is a working place, not a picture postcard, and that it produces food for the massive population of this country in a process that has been ‘industrialised’ for well over a 100 years now and that, in short, keeps us from starving. Though for how long remains to be seen…Mark tells me how a previous article about them had the headline ‘Back to the good life’. “It’s anything but that – it’s bloody hard work,” says Mark. But as we talk about the future we agree that perhaps “a change is gonna come.” Mark talks about the rising cost of fuel, meaning that flying goods around may become uneconomical, but I think it’ll also become unethical. Local is the new organic. Look at this image of a ‘local’ shelf in a massive 24-hour ASDA in Colchester, and that was what organic food was like ten years ago.But more than that I think set-ups like Mark’s are like the web 2.0 of food – small, hard-working teams, multi-skilled, agile, self-promoting, good products, and word-of-mouth distribution. By using the internet they allow for perfect provenance, putting the owner of the fork in direct touch with the owner of the farm. is another similar operation in Devon.

We’re one of the most tech-savvy nations in the world, thinking nothing of getting goods online. 11.5 million people used in January 2006, so why does “I ordered it off the net” apply to nearly everything except independently produced food? Because the producers are not set up for it and the ones that are are hard to find. I recorded an interview with Jim Twine, communications director for the Soil Association at the International Food Expo a few months ago. He was talking about how to maintain the integrity of their accreditation and how the SA can help small farmers, and having seen a part-time small-holding at the coal-face, I think more should be done to support people like this. I ask Mark about grants and development loans. “It’s the paper work, I’ve just not got the time,” he replies.The Veg section

We cross the lane back to Mark’s shop. He apologises for the rushed tour, but he has to get back to man the shop as Heather has to go out and make deliveries. “We’ve started supplying The Queen’s Head, which is the best restaurant for miles around.” Mark’s keen to stress that he wants to sell his produce locally first rather than send it all down to London. “Sadly, most restaurants around here are only interested in price. We’re competing with the likes of Dutch pork, for example, and few people seem care about where it’s come from which is a shame.” We go on to talk about how so few restaurants fully promote their local credentials. And Lincolnshire isn’t the most affluent county in England. “If we were a 100 miles further south certain things would be much easier,” says Mark. He’s trying to change that through word of mouth, who he supplies, and his website.Back in the shop I make some purchases. And here’s the thing. Back in London, before writing this, I went to Sainsbury’s at Upper Norwood and tried to match what I bought at Priory Free Range foods.

Priory Sainsburys
2x Big eggs 60p £1.79 for six or 29.8p each
6x normal eggs £1.30 £1.59 for six or 26.5p each
6 pullet eggs (small)60p; no organic small eggs.
4 carrots 60p 71p a bag (94.7p per kg)
5x baking potatoes (Large)£1.45 £1.99 per pack (1.5kg) (£1.33 per kg)
20ish salad/new potatoes 73p £1.29 a bag (£1.72 per kg)
3x Leaks £1.50 £1.85 for 400g (£4.36 per kg)
6x pork sausages £3.19 £2.49 six sausages
8x Lincolnshire chipolatas £3.09 £2.49 for six. No organic but TtD Lincs Sausages
Shoulder Pork (£6/kg) kg=1.460 £8.76 (£8.75 per kg).TtD pork joint Not Organic
Orchard Jam £2.00 SO apricot Conserve £1.59 (340g)
  (TtD = Taste the Difference)

So that’s meat, potatoes, and two veg, plus sausages and eggs, enough for five/six people for £23.81. All organic, and at a price that’s competitive with Sainsbury’s. On the whole, taking into account such things as carbon footprint, holistic attitude, regional variation and ‘supporting local business’, I think Priory Free Range Foods does very well against a leading supermarket. And Mark even helped me carry the bags to the car – you can’t say that of your average “Do you want help packing?” till staff, can you?The eggs

Back at the holiday home, the pork went in the Aga. Agas – you either love them or you hate them. I think trying to cook on one is like driving a steam train. It’s all great-looking, with enamel, smoke and cast iron, very rural farmhouse, but it’s just not for me. Having said that, the exceptions that proves the rule are fried eggs done on bake-o-glide and the jacket potatoes I got which came out like shrunken leathery pygmy heads, just how I like ’em.The crackling on the pork was fantastic, all blistered up like a first-degree burns victim (what!?), so that the top-most piece nearly caught in the furnace that was the Aga. Underneath was a sublime layer of fat, and then the tasty meat. I would have liked to have cooked it slower for longer to render out some more of the fat. I don’t think I did it justice battling with the guesstimates of the roasting oven vs. the simmering oven, however, or the guidelines set out in the Aga cookbook that came with the place.

Carrots. These tasted like regular carrots, to be honest, but perhaps a little sweeter. There was a world of difference in the leeks, however. These you could tell were part of the proud onion family: they had a zingy bite with a slight peppery taste, coupled with a bright green colour. And none of that squeakiness on the tooth you can sometimes get with leeks.The potatoes were, again, excellent. I love spuds when they’re done so they’re only just about holding together, letting you break them apart by simply pushing them against the roof of your mouth with your tongue – yum.

I hope there’s a future in this country for this sort of enterprise. I think we owe it to ourselves (and the planet) to try to augment our shopping with at least a few items from people like Mark – and I think the internet can help there. I hope also that there’s a viable workable future for the countryside. Channel 4 is screening Molly Dineen’s ‘Lie of the Land’ next week (which looks very similar to a BBC Four show from 2005). The blurb says ‘Farming has sculpted our rural landscape. But in recent years the farming industry has been decimated by disease, development, legislation and the power of the supermarket chains. I’d like to think that people like Mark prove that there’s a potentially bright future for the British countryside.

Priory Free Range Foods

Welton Farm51 Priory RoadRuskingtonSleafordNG34 9DJ


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These are my personal views and not those of Channel 4 or the BBC
February 2020
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