Every other Saturday in Cirencester means Farmers Market in the Marker Square. We always try to go because we firmly support buying local produce wherever possible, and the food we buy comes direct from the producers to us. Fruit, vegetables, meat, cakes, pickles, pies and pasties, the list goes on. Whether it costs more is a very moot point. All averaged out I don't think it does, but I do know that the quality is high because it hasn't been packed in plastic, it hasn't been carried hundreds of miles on trucks over several days. Rather, it has reached us direct from local farms that day and is really fresh.
My son and his family were staying with us and enjoyed coming to the market. And then later we went to the National Arboretum at Westonbirt. This was wonderful because the sun shone, the autumn colours were still clinging to the trees, and our grandson discovered a mud hole. He immediately stomped into it and there he remained, stomping, until his Dad hauled him out with a broad hint of chocolate cake. Boring adults like us took pictures of trees, but mud was the hit of the day.
There was, to my chagrin, a first for me today. I was wheeled around Westonbirt in a wheelchair. My health has taken a downturn lately and I just couldn't walk around the beautiful Westonbirt trail of autumn colours with the family. I was prepared to wait while they went around, but they insisted I come too, persuaded me into a wheelchair and off we went. They are lovely, Westonbirt is lovely, and we all had a perfect day.
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