Shopping in the Community.

The district of Bristol in which I live has become a trendy, local arts centre over the last few years. But this is a real change from how things used to be. Twenty years ago there were a few cafes, lots of rather seedy pubs, the housing was becoming run down and the local shopping centre was dying. The shops were closing down or becoming charity shops. There didn't seem to much sense of community – or, at least to be accurate, you only fitted in the community if you had been born and bred there.

Of course, back then I didn't really notice. I was just married, we'd bought our own house and there was a baby on the way. What with a full time job as well, I had no time for forming roots in the neighbourhood. When my daughter was born, things became even more hectic, despite having a nanny. Weekends had to contain all the family activities that for a full-time mum would occur throughout the week, and shopping was definitely bottom of the pile. It normally got squeezed in at a supermarket on the way home from work. Really the only neighbours we knew were the couple next door, who were so friendly.

Once my baby started to attend school you'd have thought I'd manage to start forming local connections. But, when she was too old to be looked after my her nanny, she attended an after school club. I did get to know the mums of two or three of her best friends that she visited regularly, but mainly in a cursory way. Even after the opening of a local community centre, there still wasn't much that we would do as a family, so we still failed to fit in.

Despite working full time when my daughter was little, I did put my career in second place to family. So when she because a latch-key kid at secondary school, I finally managed to find those extra hours that allowed me to develop my career. Unfortunately, because I'd always spoilt both husband and daughter, they never picked up any of the slack when it came to doing chores. My life became very focused on work and family, finally to the exclusion of all else. I even lost touch with the group of friends I'd made at University.

So, you say, what have the last three paragraphs got to do with the theme of the piece? Well, my daughter has grown up. Most of her year is now spent at University and when she comes home, she is now an independent lady. In my mid-forties, my husband and I have regained our independence and it has made all the difference. The area we live in has blossomed all around us while we were so busy just living and it is now a vibrant, active community, in which all people can belong.

The weekends being our own again, we can get up late on a Saturday, having breakfast at one of the many local cafés before visiting the butchers, where we are know by name and they sometimes produce special batches of gluten-free sausages, if we ask. At the deli, they used to ask how the house extension was getting on, and, since one of the owners also has a wheat intolerance, they can point us to interesting new lines to suit our needs. Most of our fruit and veg are collected on a Thursday from the community centre, where a local, organic farm run a box scheme; but we top it up from the high-street green-grocer, who has a fair organic range.

If I don't feel like cooking any night, there must be a dozen restaurants within walking distance where we can eat anything from new English to Indian, Turkish to pan-Asian. There are café-bars as well as the pubs, some of which retain their old character and others of which are marketed at the new set of 'imported' inhabitants.

Every year there's an arts trail, in which you can wander round the neighbourhood and view the work of the local artists, often in their own houses. And over the last few years, I've noticed that we've established contact with more of the people on our street. I've got to own up here and say we're not the drop in drinks sort of people, but it's good that I can stop for a chat in the street and find out what's going on. What a difference a few years have made!