In Praise of Honesty Shops
Like a moment of grace waiting by the side of the road, you never know when you’ll next encounter an honesty shop. In these days of cynicism, waning trust, and systems that aren’t built in favour of the small or the wonderfully wonky, honesty shops offer seasonal fruit, veg, flowers, and sometimes more, at prices that folk can afford. Eggs, honey, crafts, and miscellaneous goods, all offered up to the passer by who may just have a want or need for that particular produce.
God bless Sue, of ‘Sue’s Veg & Flowers’ which we happened upon in Norfolk when we were there the weekend before last. Over our long weekend I got into the habit of exclaiming excitedly every time I spotted an honesty shop, which was at least half a dozen times a day. Well done north Norfolk, you have so many more than Sussex by the sea.
Sue’s was a particularly well-stocked honesty shop, and is where I picked up a hot pink geranium that reminded me of my Gran, a little pot of lavender, and a pot of white-and-purple heather. I also got a rather solid looking cucumber, because *why not!* I mean, they really are all impulse buys, albeit utterly wholesome ones. The cucumber also rounded everything up to a fiver. You can’t say fairer than that.
Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid.
(Frederick Buechner)
In a world where the terrible often seems to dominate and oppress, an honesty shop is a beautiful thing. It’s an open invitation into a moment of connection, of light communion. Each time I buy something from an honesty shop, as I walk away with my treasure I call out thank you! just in case the keeper of the shop can hear me.
Honesty shops. May we find them, may we buy from them, may we set them up ourselves. For years I have wanted to set up a free little library but it’s never quite happened. Still, I am a firm believer in the right timing, and wonder if I may yet set one up, but perhaps more along the lines of an honesty bookshop.
If I set one up I’ll be sure to let you know. Honest.

