Fields of Cold ( Meats and other Antipasti)

I popped into a local corner shop for a pint of milk and loaf of bread after dropping Jack off at his mate's house the other week. It doubles as the Village Post Office. It triples as the deli counter for the Best Restaurant in the North of England.

I waited in line behind a goat farmer who had just won Gold from some Big Cheeses for his Braffords Blue. I felt like Jamie Oliver meeting the producers. Very Penelope Keith.

I came away with milk, albeit from Jersey Cows, bread still warm out of the award-winning oven scented with rosemary and sprinkled with crunchy sea salt, a few Queen olives, marinated artichokes, rib-eye steak, an assortment of cheese and very little change from 40 quid.

It was all delicious, apart from the Norwegian Gjetost which tasted of caramel-flavoured candle wax. I doubt it's available in the States. It wouldn't get past the FDA unless it had a wick in it and 30 hours guaranteed burning time.

The olives, the largest and meatiest I have ever seen or eaten, are 50p each so I won't be treating every houseguest to them.

I've called into the deli a number of times as it is on my route home from work, if I take a particularly circuitous route, double back on myself once or twice and negotiate a few hairpin bends. I am now completely broke and shall have to resort to porridge for the rest of the month. You can be sure I'll be sucking on the olive stones though.