Look, I get it. Jeremy Clarkson runs a real farm, not a theme park. The shop is a tiny, glorified shed that sells a handful of potatoes, some pricey crisps, and a few cans of Hawkstone lager. It’s not a supermarket; it’s a vibe.
But that vibe comes with a catch: its opening hours are more unpredictable than British weather. One week it’s open Thursday to Sunday, 10 AM to 4 PM. The next? “Sorry, we’re shut for lambing” or “we’ve sold out of everything again.” If you’re planning a trip, you need to treat it like a covert military operation, not a casual day out.
The Official Word (Sort Of)
The Diddly Squat website and social media pages are your best bet, but even they can be slightly behind. They’ll post a story saying “Open this weekend!” and then you arrive to find a handwritten note taped to the door: “Gone for a fry-up. Back never.” Okay, I’m exaggerating—but only a little.
The real reason for the chaos? The shop is basically a side hustle for a working farm. If the tractor breaks, if the sheep escape, if Clarkson himself has a bad mood—the shop closes. It’s brutally honest, and honestly, kind of refreshing. You can’t get a refund on your disappointment, but you can buy a tiny pot of honey if you’re lucky.
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