Growers Market in London

Fresh, raw milk, in its creamy, silky natural state. Thick globs of pure cream floats on my coffee and my five year-old self calling it icecream - so terribly naughty and wonderful. Freshly baked carrot cake and crispy crunchy organic apples.

Friendly faces and lovely, clean, pure air swirls around me as I walk through Marylebone Grower's Market. "I can choose my own eggs?" I ask the vendor, dumbfounded, and smile as I reach to choose gorgeous farm fresh chicken eggs and load my egg boxes. I go back for a second helping to the stall of baked items, then green salad items, watercress and spinach, aubergine, rosemary, leek, cucumber: grocery items deluxe.

I convince my husband to return with me every Sunday after that... I cannot imagine buying these items from a supermarket with its bright florescent lighting and isles of processed, packaged, chemically enhanced goods with it's magnitude of plastic, tin, cardboard and paper that will empty into my trash...