vibrant

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

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.

Make sure our latest travel stories always appear at the top of your Google Search by setting us as a Preferred Source. Click here to activate or add us as a Preferred Source in your Google search settings.

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.

A baggily clad skateboarder’s wheels clatter across concrete floors, the noise bouncing off exposed pipes and iron girders. Vaulted skylights set in high ceilings illuminate the industrial space and its central kitchen, from which my main course – a silky lemon risotto, spiked with samphire, rhubarb, garlic, baby onions and basil – has just been transported.

I’m in the Dutch city of Eindhoven, in North Brabant, famous for its historic connection to Philips, the one-time electronics giant. The restaurant, Radio Royaal, is housed in what was once their engine room, in the Strijp-S neighbourhood. Today, Strijp-S buzzes with concept stores, an indoor food market, MU Hybrid Art House and the Area 51 skatepark. The broader area, Strijp, was where the company was largely headquartered: its zones are named S, T and R. In the late 90s, Philips withdrew from the city where it had started in 1891, and the letters I, J and P were never assigned.

Philips had employed about half of the region’s working population, so its departure for Amsterdam inevitably left a huge hole. Fortunately for Eindhoven, this was short-lived, and within a decade the city had reinvented itself as a multicultural hub for design and innovation – so much so that Dutch Design Week, the largest event of its kind in northern Europe, has been held here since 2005.

This year’s iteration, from 17 to 25 October, has a jam-packed programme of exhibitions, workshops and seminars at more than 100 locations around the city, with thousands of local and international designers involved. About 350,000 visitors are expected, with displays spanning everything from a bar made from mushrooms to the manipulation of Dutch wool (which is coarser than other wools, such as merino) for wearable garments.

Well beyond Design Week, however, Eindhoven packs a punch in terms of creativity. On my visit, I discovered a city that is not only vibrant and design-led, but also surprisingly green.

Completely off-limits during Philips’ heyday, Strijp-S is perhaps the liveliest example of Eindhoven’s reinvention, with innovative businesses making the most of the industrial spaces. It’s distinguished, too, by the Trudo Tower, a 19-storey building where facade planters froth with more than 70 species of greenery. Purpose-built in 2020, these eye-catching apartments were designed to provide affordable housing for low-income residents.

Despite the city’s industrial past, about 40% of Eindhoven’s landscape comprises greenery. Walkways – complete with bat boxes – run alongside the Dommel river, while larger spaces, such as Karpendonkse Plas and Philips de Jongh park, provide walking and biking opportunities. This, plus an average commute time of 15 minutes, helps to explain why Eindhoven was named the world’s least stressed city last year.

As you walk from the UFO-shaped Evoluon (now functioning as an exhibition space and conference centre, and given by the company to the city on its 75th anniversary) on the edge of the Het Ven neighbourhood towards Strijp-R, the area becomes both green and residential. Ahead of the times, Philips saw the correlation between nature and healthy, happy employees. As early as 1910, the company started building workers’ accommodation with large gardens, which today are a mix of social and private housing.

Strijp-R’s primary allure, however, is the RK Complex. Formerly a Philips ceramics factory, it was bought by renowned Dutch designer Piet Hein Eek and opened in 2010. Other designers have workshops here, too: the idea, said Hein Eek, was to give young creatives an affordable space to work. The concept obviously works: in more than 15 years, only five of the 25 studios have changed hands.

Visitors flock here year-round to check out Hein Eek’s eco-forward scrap wood furniture and for glimpses into the studios, the cavernous exhibition space and the shop, packed with smaller design objects – ceramics, books, jewellery. The onsite Green Restaurant favours local, seasonal ingredients in hearty portions; it’s attached to the boutique Piet Hein Eek hotel, also one of the designer’s innovations. It has 14 rooms, each featuring a distinctive design style, with doubles from €135.

What makes a stay in Eindhoven even more interesting, however, are the myriad ways this impulse towards repurposing spaces, reusing materials and thinking sustainably shapes the visitor experience. I stayed at Hotel Mariënhge (doubles from €83) in the centre, a former monastery characterised by clean lines and cheeky art, its interiors effortlessly blending old and new.

From here, it’s a short walk to the retail district, where vintage stores range from the highly curated Yatva Vintage to a Salvation Army ReShare store. Near Strijp-R, I happen upon Luna & Lore, owned and run by Luna Hartogs. “Lore is about wisdom passed on from previous generations, and I learned to sew from my grandmother,” she explains, as I rifle delightedly through rails of upcycled vintage clothing. “For me, it’s also about passing things on for people to enjoy.”

“Eindhoven gets called ‘Vintage Valhalla’ – a paradise,” Erik van Gerwen of Eindhoven 365 tells me over dinner at Fifth NRE, itself housed in a former gas factory. “There’s the Philips legacy, but the presence of the Design Academy also ensures a lively community, passionate about innovatively making use of what already exists.”

Creating opportunities is a recurring theme in Eindhoven. I see it again at New Order of Fashion, a nonprofit organisation providing makers with resources to experiment with, as well as a sellers’ platform. It’s also a lab, researching the future of fashion from a regenerative perspective, and a public space aiming to inspire visitors to think about their consumer choices.

I loiter outside the Muziekgebouw concert hall: since 2024, its facade has featured a massive mural of a street musician and classical concert violinist embracing. Named Echoes of Harmony, it was commissioned by Eindhoven city council to represent music’s ability to bridge barriers, and since named best mural worldwide by Street Art Cities.

On the city’s north-eastern edge, graffers can legally unleash spray cans in Berenkuil, a two-level roundabout and now the country’s largest open-air graffiti zone. Ramps and rails make it a beeline for skateboarders, too; again, I hear wheels grinding on concrete. There are no dibs here: the art lasts mere days before it’s sprayed over by someone else, but that, I’m told, is the point. In Eindhoven, perhaps more than anywhere else, the idea that everything is ephemeral, yet also renewable, seems entirely at home.

The trip was provided by the Netherlands Board of Tourism and Conventions