Poets' tour, part four: in and out with lettuce and lardy bread

As our road trip moves through changing landscapes and political sympathies, our mood is shifting between hilarity and tears

And so we leave the grand, sorrowful house of Chipping Norton, back down the long two-mile driveway, once owned by the Brass family; today the property of a man who also owns Alexandra Palace and three golf courses. (He has never had time to play a game of golf, our taxi driver tells us.) We pass the Quiet Woman antiques shop and it seems today is going to be a day when we ooh and aah going through places, but don’t have time to stop. Then just as we are about to drive out of Chipping Norton, the very unquiet women in the back of the bus spot a market and shout: “Stop!”

Everyone scatters around the market – local lardy bread for Carol Ann Duffy, and for me artichoke hearts and feta marinaded in dill. Ali has a kind face, slicing the feta slab almost lovingly. He’s from Afghanistan via Turkey. When I ask him if he’ll vote in or out – he says out. He’s been told it will be better for his children and knows nothing about politics. I tell him In will be better for them.

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