Farmer’s markets never really took off in Stirling. In the end I gave up going to the smattering of stalls that lined the gravelly parking place on the first Saturday of every month. It may be that Stirling is actually a bit out of the way. At weekends, either Glasgow or Edinburgh are better bets for stall holders and a lot of the university professors probably buy their stuff in Perth.
But here in the South of England farmers markets are a serious movement. What they can’t provide, local farmshops take care of and since we have a freezer this means that we no longer buy meats from the supermarket (and probably not veg either, come the season).
The British farmer’s markets are not regular, twice-weekly affairs like those in continental Europe. This is because the movement insists that not only must produce be local (‘At a Hampshire Farmers’ Market all produce being sold must have been grown, reared, caught, brewed, pickled, baked, or processed within Hampshire or ten miles of the border.’) but also staffed by people normally working for the producer. This means we won’t get any Gloucester Old Spot or Devon Scrumpy here and when the farmers are busy (as in the imminent lambing season) they won’t come at all. I doubt the wisdom of all this— but when it happens, the market is quite an event.
Every two months it comes to Basingstoke.