I’m heartedly sick of hearing how feckless and selfish the young are. Maybe I move in enchanted circles, but I keep on meeting young people making a go of it, and frankly if they are the future, we should have no fear of Brexit. At Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s River Cottage Festival, there were (among the Glastonbury refugees selling henna tattoos, yoga classes and herbal remedies) new cheesemakers, butchers, jam- and pickle-makers, restaurateurs, furniture-makers and brewers, all having successful careers out of work they love. England now has more artisan cheeses than France. Last month I helped judge the first year of the British Charcuterie Awards and there were 443 entries, mostly start-ups by young people.
I recently met an amazing young woman. Alice Thompson was being given an honorary degree at Queen Margaret University in Edinburgh. Used to honorary degrees going to distinguished oldies, I was surprised to see a young woman looking no older than the students. But if ever anyone deserved an honour, it is she. Six years ago, she and her business partner Josh Littlejohn MBE set up the Social Bite café chain, selling posh sarnies. Nothing marvellous about that, but for every sandwich sold, one was given to a street sleeper. The chain now employs 100 people, many of them ex-homeless, and gives away 100,000 meals a year. Then Alice decided that the way to make lots of money in one night, and at the same time make the public aware of the extent of homelessness, was to charge people to camp out in sub-zero temperatures. Last year The Sleep in the Park in Edinburgh’s Princess Street Gardens hosted 8,000 people, who had a great time and raised £4 million. Having concluded that the system makes it impossible for someone without a home to find or keep a job, get proper healthcare or avoid the drug peddlers, the charity spent the money on building a Social Bite village of great little housing pods, cosy and warm, with decent bathrooms, proper kitchens etc. Alice is only 28 now — just think what more she’ll achieve.
This is an extract from Prue Leith's diary, which appears in this week's Spectator