What does a “food desert” look like? If you’re picturing a barren wasteland, think again. In the Cotswolds, it looks like honey-coloured stone houses draped in purple wisteria under a cloudless sky. Welcome to Kempsford, where the only thing more abundant than rustic charm is the absence of anywhere to buy food.
The village has a primary school, a pub, and a house called “The Old Bakery” - but no actual bakery, or any shop selling food for miles. The nearest convenience stores are in Fairford, more than three miles away. Driving takes a few minutes, but public transport? Forget it. Walking to the Fairford Co-op is a three-hour round trip along busy roads, perfect for building an appetite you can’t satisfy.
For value, the big Aldi in Cirencester is the best bet - if you can get there. The bus from Kempsford runs once a day, three days a week, and drops you a mile from the supermarket with less than three hours before the return bus leaves. A shopping list comparison reveals the cruel math: spaghetti is 28p at Aldi, 90p at the Co-op. Apples are 99p versus £2.50. Rice is 52p versus £2.45. Tuna is 59p versus £1.35. The total bill at Aldi is £16.17; at the Co-op, £26.81 - a rural premium of 65%.
Anton Wynn, head of the South Cotswolds food bank, says the area’s “chocolate box beauty” hides deep-rooted food inequality. The food bank now delivers 60-70% of its parcels because most clients can’t afford or easily get to its Cirencester centre. Bethany Groom, 24, lives in Kemble with two young children and doesn’t drive. Booking a return taxi to Aldi would eat most of her weekly food budget. She books the dial-a-ride bus two weeks in advance, her main focus being: “Can I get a bus? Then: how long have I got in town?”
The rise of rural food deserts - often in areas where much of the UK’s food is produced - reflects the death of local shops, the supermarket takeover, car culture, and crumbling public transport. Wynn remembers a childhood when his grandparents lived nearby, grew vegetables, and kept rabbits. There was a baker, a butcher, a grocer. Now that way of life is gone, and the free market isn’t rushing to fix it. The food bank backs the idea of mobile low-cost food clubs, but the logistics of cost and geography remain stubbornly intractable.
Cotswold district councillor Tristan Wilkinson says the “rural-idyll-on-steroids” image makes policymakers overlook pressing social needs. He calls for an “infrastructure first” approach to new development - shops, transport, services - because as fuel prices rocket, even car-owning middle-class residents feel the strain. “At times,” he says, “we are being penalised for living in a rural community.”