Twenty-five years ago, I spotted a sign in an empty shop window: “To Let.” At the time, I had been organising the Stroud Farmers’ Market for over a year. It had grown from a monthly to a twice-monthly event, with a waiting list for craft stalls. We had applied for a new bylaw to allow street trading as the market expanded. I was a director of the National Association of Farmers’ Markets, attending meetings in Bristol, Bath, and London, and helping to write policy documents for UK farmers’ markets. Ambition had quietly taken hold of me.
Initially funded by Stroud District and Town Councils, I worked from Stroud Valleys Project, above Bateman’s, where I was offered invaluable office space and support while getting things off the ground. Ever since the original “Made in Stroud” markets in the early nineties, makers had been asking me to set up a shop. With pre-school children, I had little interest—income was largely from state benefits, and I loved being a stay-at-home mum.
But now, with all four boys at school, I felt the pressure to find my own office. Standing by the Sub Rooms wall, the low winter sun lighting up the newly refurbished building, the white walls, wooden floors, and coloured glass panels seemed to call out, “Made in Stroud.”
I had a clear vision: a Farmers Market Information Point on one side, my office and reception desk, and a shop on the other. I contacted the agent, met the landlord, negotiated a lease, and collected the keys. With just weeks until launch, I wrote to all the makers I knew, asking them to drop off their work.
I asked the bank for a loan. They refused, saying it was a community project, and suggested a council grant. I applied for a council grant, only to be told it was a commercial project and I should seek a bank loan. In the end, my parents kindly lent me £500, which was repaid within the first year, covering shelving, a hand-built counter, and a second-hand till.
Flooring was prohibitively expensive, so Gerb painted the wooden boards himself. Unfortunately, he left his best trainers on the doorstep while painting and returned home in his socks—his trainers had been stolen that evening.
The night before we opened, I didn’t sleep. I worried about failure, about losing money, about looking foolish. But I had a backup plan: I had calculated the maximum possible loss and decided I could stock supermarket shelves at night for a year to repay it. So far, that plan hasn’t been needed.
On 1 December 2025, Made in Stroud celebrates 25 years. Heartfelt thanks go to the founding makers, who ran the shop as a cooperative for the first seven years; to Gerb, who managed the shop for the first twelve years; and to everyone who has shopped with us, made for us, volunteered, or worked with us over the decades. We would not be here without you.
Clare Honeyfield is a founder, community business expert, consultant, coach, and published author based near Stroud. Her Consistency Coven supports women building a better world, one project at a time.
