TALL (RE)TAILS

One of Laytham's pleasures is its easy access to shopping.

Within a radius of five miles there must be half a dozen sheds selling fresh free range eggs. They're the only shops of course, thank God.

The eggs are of phenomenal freshness and eating them and eating supermarket bought eggs is like eating cheese and chalk, if you'd be stupid enough to eat chalk.

They are staffed by honesty boxes. You put your money in and pay for what you take. It works.

There is the odd exception. A shed shop, as we call them, must have had some problems with people bilking eggs - making off without leaving payment. Sadly, they reverted to rather snottily phrased signs asking people to leave the damned money for what they'd taken. It leant this particular shed shop an unpleasant, frustrated, peremptory tone. A shame. George and I addressed this by leaving an extravagant amount more than we could possibly have paid, by way of an experiment into human nature. It has had great results. The shed has been completely revamped. New, charming signs have been made. A new compartment for the eggs has been made. The shed has been painted a most tasteful shade. It now has a sense of real pleasure and gratitude about it. It is a pleasure to visit.

And is it my imagination? Is it their hens which lay the best eggs?