Why shell out more?

The egg man is our weekly pilgrimage. We get through the eggs in this house. I blame the brownies - as in the cake not the fairy folk. Not that we make them every week or anything but it's a 3 egg deal when we do. Then there is lemon drizzle cake, cookies, omelets and my favourite a tortilla or Spanish omelet to distinguish it from its flatter bready cousin. Yup, we like the eggs. Thankfully we like the fruit too or we'd be in a right...err..bind.

If the veggie patch fails again - or rather if it falls siege to the entire South Coast population of slugs and snails for yet another growing season (death to slugs and snails, show no mercy) then we're toying with the idea of swapping the soil for a chicken coop. Ooh home grown eggs, can you imagine? We could try that grab them while they're hot game and squish them into squares, sooo much easier to slice. It is definitely a plan.

But in the meantime it is the egg man. He lives in Brighton's open market and sells the best eggs ever, free range, locally sourced and totally non corporate. There is usually time for a chat about the world and life in general thrown in with the eggs. Toddler boy loves him, hands over the cash with a chesire cat grin. And the best bit is that there really isn't much cash involved. His biggest baddest ovum are a mere £1.18 for six and those babies are big, mahooosive. His mediums (89p for half a dozen) are about as big as the best the supermarkets offer in their large range. The eggman can't be beaten - although his eggs can and make a rather nice meringue if you do.

Urban freshness at Brighton's open market