Cotswolds Villages: Beautiful but No Shops for Miles

A “food desert” in the rural Cotswolds appears deceptively idyllic, exemplified by Kempsford’s honey-colored stone houses and wisteria under sunny skies. The only disruption is the hum of US air force planes from nearby Fairford airbase.

The village has a primary school and a pub, and a house named “The Old Bakery,” but no store selling food within miles.

While hunger is not visibly evident, Kempsford illustrates a paradox: food is often cheaper, healthier, and more accessible in deprived urban neighborhoods than in affluent rural areas like the Cotswolds.

A University of Sheffield study found that for low-income families without cars, rural living is a major risk factor for food insecurity — inability to obtain nutritious food, skipping meals, and going hungry.

According to Anton Wynn, head of South Cotswolds food bank, the nearest food shops to Kempsford are convenience stores in Fairford, over three miles away. Driving takes minutes but public transport is nonexistent; walking to the Fairford Co-op involves a three-hour round trip along busy roads.

For better value and choice, the Aldi in Cirencester, ten miles away, is the best option. The bus from Kempsford runs there once daily, three times a week, but drops passengers a mile from the store, allowing less than three hours before the return bus.

A comparison of basic food prices shows that items are radically cheaper at the farthest store, which is hardest and most expensive to reach without a car.

At Aldi, spaghetti is 28p versus 90p at Co-op; six apples 99p versus £2.50; rice 52p versus £2.45; tuna 59p versus £1.35. The total at Aldi is £16.17, at Co-op £26.81 — a 65% rural premium.

Wynn says food inequality is hidden behind the area’s affluence and beauty. The food bank now delivers 60-70% of parcels after realizing most clients cannot easily reach its Cirencester centre.

Bethany Groom, 24, lives in Kemble, six miles from Cirencester, with two young children. “It’s an absolutely beautiful village,” she says, but the local store is expensive for “top-ups.” Supermarket home deliveries are costly, and a weekly food drop is impractical on a tight budget.

She does not drive, and managing food shopping, preschool care, and NHS appointments is exhausting. A return taxi to Aldi would consume most of her weekly food budget. “I book the [dial-a-ride] bus two weeks in advance. My main focus is: 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 profound social changes: supermarkets, closure of rural shops and post offices, car culture, collapse of public transport, and changing family structures.

Wynn recalls his Cotswolds village childhood with grandparents nearby growing fruit and vegetables, keeping rabbits for meat, and local bakers, butchers, and grocers. Extended families and the church formed a cohesive community — a way of life largely gone.

Food retail economics suggest the free market will not solve Cotswolds food inequality. The food bank supports mobile low-cost food clubs for outlying villages, but issues of cost, geography, and frequency remain intractable.

Cotswold district councillor Tristan Wilkinson says the area’s hyper-idyllic image, attracting celebrities and wealth, makes it hard to convince policymakers of pressing social needs. He advocates an “infrastructure first” approach for new developments, prioritizing shops and transport alongside housing.

Wilkinson adds that the issue extends beyond food access to essential services like job centres, childcare, and health. With soaring fuel prices, even car-owning middle classes feel strain. “At times,” he says, “it seems we are being penalised for living in a rural community.”