This quaint town in Somerset has been named one of the best places to live in the UK time and time again – so I headed back to find out what all the fuss is about
This quaint town in Somerset has been named one of the best places to live in the UK time and time again – so I headed back to find out what all the fuss is about(Image: Nigel Jarvis via Getty Images)
I recently found myself back in Somerset for the first time in several years, taking a nostalgic journey with my friend who had flown halfway across the globe to mark their mum’s 60th birthday. A road trip from the capital to sweeping fields of countryside felt like the perfect way to spend a crisp autumn weekend.
My friend is originally from Frome, Somerset, but now lives on the shores of New South Wales. I hadn’t visited this charming West Country town for nearly eight years, yet had noticed its name cropping up in headlines as one of Britain’s finest places to live.
In fact, it appeared so frequently that I’ve lost track. It featured once more on Muddy Stiletto’s Top 260 Best Places to Live in 2025.
I’d never given it much thought, as Frome has always simply been my mate’s hometown, but if it’s collecting awards repeatedly, there must be something I’ve overlooked over the past decade.
What’s more, Frome’s Rye Bakery also earned a mention in Britain’s Best Bakeries by Milly Kenny Ryder. The Times even branded the town “Wokeville”, home of the “conscious hipster”. Yet to me, it’s always been a tight-knit community hub that’s cricket-obsessed, where everybody knows one another, and where pints are shockingly affordable compared to London prices.
Nestled on the edge of the Mendip Hills, Muddy Stilettos described Frome as a “community-minded town packed with arty, artisan shops, eateries and other businesses, with an indie cinema and a music venue where the likes of Paul McCartney ‘just pop in’. And it hosts the best designer-maker-producer street market in the West.”
Either I’d never properly clocked it before or the town has experienced a remarkable transformation during my eight-year absence. The town centre, filled with cobbled side streets that climb upwards, is lined with tiny boutiques and quirky independent shops, stocking everything from vintage clothing and antiques to its very own apothecary emporium.
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Streets like Cheap Street and Catherine Hill are packed with independent retailers, upmarket coffee shops, and sufficient micropubs and wine bars to keep you busy for ages. What Muddy Stilettos celebrated as “interesting indies”, my mate’s mum labelled “artisanal… and we aren’t the artisanal type”.
Another draw for both locals and visitors from further away is Frome’s abundance of markets, which by pure coincidence were running the weekend I wasn’t there. At the Frome Independent Market you’ll discover designer makers alongside artisan food and drink producers.
You’d struggle to spot many chain shops or restaurants here, which is brilliant if you’re keen to avoid the overwhelming presence of typical high street brands. I spotted just one Costa Coffee, and that was it.
My first real stop was Rye Bakery at its Station Approach site. The other branch can be found inside a church on Whittox Lane.
Even the old railway house at the station has been transformed into a compact independent food market and events venue. Alongside Rye Bakery, you’ll discover its sister wine bar, cheesemonger The Cheese Lord, Indian and Trinidadian street food, a charcutier, another wine bar, plus a community sauna and cold plunge.
Oh, and there’s a milk vending machine thrown in for good measure. You genuinely wouldn’t need to venture beyond the station.
Naturally, it would be churlish not to sample Rye’s offerings. I devoured a cinnamon bun alongside my iced coffee (on a freezing cold Sunday morning), plus a special sandwich crammed full of salami, Glastonbury cheddar, and salsa verde mayo.
It’s precisely the sort of fare I crave from a bakery, though I can appreciate that to some it might appear a touch… gentrified. The sandwich was bursting at the seams, with the heat of the salami tempered by the zesty mayo and punchy cheddar. All these trendy new bakeries have turned the humble sarnie into something rather fashionable.
Rye’s cinnamon bun proved just as delightful as the sandwich, boasting soft, fluffy dough and beautifully spiced cinnamon sugar. Not overly sickly sweet, but sweet enough to satisfy my appetite.
We even discovered an Australian serving behind the counter, and if that’s not an indication of quality coffee, I don’t know what is.
It was also pleasant to revisit some of the neighbourhood drinking establishments. You’ll encounter a mixture of traditional country pubs or independent craft beer venues. Personally, I’d head just beyond the town limits for an authentic taste of Somerset living.
I nearly shed a tear when I discovered a pint of cider for under £6. It makes me appreciate just how costly London has become, and truly, that the prices needn’t be as eye-wateringly steep as they are.
Frome has both evolved and remained unchanged. It’s still the same charming Somerset town where everybody knows everybody; where the tranquillity of the town centre feels so unfamiliar to someone from London.
The residents may not have altered, but it appears the atmosphere has, attracting a fresh generation of people to its cobbled streets. There’s a feeling of togetherness that you only encounter in small towns like Frome.
It offers an escape from hectic urban existence, where you can retreat into the countryside within moments rather than hours. It may not be exactly the same Frome I recall, but I’ll always maintain a warm attachment to the town.
