AFTER attending one of the many consultation meetings organised so that Darlingtonians can hear the cases for and against a very large supermarket near one corner of our market square, one speaker's point stuck in my mind.

Darlington, he said, was a market town and should capitalise on that.

Market town - that conjures up an instant mental picture of a market square surrounded by a variety of shops. Shops, that is, as opposed to "stores".

It's the sort of town for which this newspaper, a few years ago, campaigned vigorously.

Like the roses-round-the-door rural idyll, we know it's not an exact description, as all but the smallest market towns now have several of the major chains represented in their high streets, but such towns still offer variety to the shopper.

That's why I like to shop in, for example, Northallerton and Barnard Castle, both of which have a mixture of national chains and local names.

Still thinking about what the phrase meant, I went to bed and picked up my current bedtime reading, Terry Pratchett's Discworld novel, Going Postal, only to find, in that very unlikely place, a paragraph summing up my feelings about small shops.

Moist von Lipwig, a very reluctant postmaster general (the alternative was to be hanged) visits a printer to discuss stamps and thinks to himself that he likes the kind of business where you can actually speak to the man whose name is over the door.

That's it. The man or woman whose name is over the door has the most vested of interests in getting, and keeping, our custom. If we become a regular, we'll be greeted by name; there will soon be some chat and, in time, our family will be asked after and our preferences noted. We'll feel we aren't just someone attached to a purse or wallet.

The name over the door may not, of course, be that of the present proprietor. It could be grandad's, or an aunt's, the name of the people three owners back who established the shop's reputation, or a name locals can't be persuaded to stop using. It may simply reflect the type of goods sold, but the principle is the same.

I was, at that consultation meeting, able to keep my arms folded during a show of hands of those who did the bulk of their shopping at a supermarket, but I live in a part of the town which still has its small shops. On shopping trips to any town, however, I like the mixture of big and small which gives me a choice. Fight for variety.