Bristol's Organic Food Fair

We had a stall there last weekend and enjoyed it hugely. So much so that I have wondered why.

Everyone who came by seemed to be in a good mood. They were open and friendly in a way not common in the UK, curious about what each stall offered, willing to learn. Many who came to our stand knew our books well and had tales to tell - most of them delightful. The one that touched me most was of the man who tried to put down a deposit by credit card with a little French chateau, and was politely refused: "We always trust Sawday readers."

The main excitement for us was that this was the first day we could sell our new The Big Earth Book. The piles of them looked impressive - and they generated a lot of interest and a lot of helium-filled balloons advertising the book. The book is beautiful, perhaps disarmingly so for it packs a terrific punch. It is the biggest project we have ever done and has the backing of Yeo Valley Organic Yoghurts, generous and supportive to a remarkable degree. This week they are beginnning a massive promotion of the book on their yoghurt and milk pots.

Back to the Fair. Perhaps the organic world really does have its own culture, for the Fair passed in a glow of 'decency'. Every stall-holder had a tale to tell; the food is the product, for the most part, of commitment - and even passion. I bought a tweed waist-coat from a farmer on the Isle of Mull whom I have known for a while as a dedicated and inspiring farmer of rare-breed cattle but who has now rescued the Mull weaving industry too. Hearing that the last looms were off to the scrap heap he begged the old weaver to sell them to him and to show him how to weave. He now employs 6 weavers and is producing the finest tweed from the wool of Hebridean sheep, wool that otherwise would have almost no value. You could wander from stall to stall hearing similar stories: the Cornish farmers who have created a Cornish wool business, the ice-cream makers working on a shoe-string - and so on. All the food was of the highest quality.

No wonder the crowds were in a good mood, and I hardly saw any litter. British culture is not, after all, impermeable.