But the Golden Harvest in North Street came to the rescue with their selection of great yoghurts at prices comparable with Waitrose, (if memory serves).

Whereas Waitrose devotes half an aisle, six feet high and two feet deep, to far more yoghurt choices than can possibly be necessary, Golden Harvest's stock occupies less than two feet of shelf space.

This is a stark example of the enormous gulf between the levels of trade of the supermarket and the independent retailer. Much as we enjoy Golden Harvest's yoghurt, it comes from other parts of Britain and Europe – to my knowledge, there is no local manufacturer.

Much more local is the milk delivered by H. Byham & Son's dairy, bottled at Fenstanton from farms around the region. We have increased our order and Clare is attempting to make yoghurt herself with a second-hand yoghurt maker. All she needs is milk, a dash of live yoghurt to get the culture going and a few teaspoons of powdered milk (which we were relieved to find in Strawberry Stores in Ballingdon).

Hippy types have been knitting their own yoghurt for decades, and it is not too onerous a task. Clare's first batch was great, but it turns out to be a slightly more precise science than her beginner's luck lulled her into thinking. Subsequent batches have been less successful, with a consistency of unimaginable stringiness.

Byham's can order yoghurt in one and two-litre tubs. It is a tempting thought, but Clare is not one to give up and I am sure it won't be long before we can enjoy yoghurt that has a reasonable claim to localness.