Infinity Foods, from its inception, operated as a cooperative under the stewardship of its founders and was officially registered as a workers’ cooperative in 1979. When you think of Infinity Foods, one person undoubtedly stands out to most of you – Caroline. Her journey with Infinity Foods began in the early 1980s, and over the years, she has become an iconic figure in the North Laine, deeply embedded in its community fabric.
On a particularly sweltering September day, an anomaly in an otherwise chilly summer, we embarked on a drive through the picturesque East Sussex countryside to visit Caroline and her partner Bitz, who also had a long history with Infinity Foods before retiring in 2012.
Upon our arrival, we were greeted with smiles and warm embraces, setting the tone for a delightful visit. Bitz, ever the consummate host, immediately set to work in the kitchen, grinding coffee beans and preparing our preferred half-caf coffees, thoughtfully substituting cream with oat milk as per our request.
Caroline took us on a captivating guided tour of her home, adorned with an eclectic array of trinkets, gizmos, and collectables, some with a unique connection to Infinity Foods and its rich history. Notably, a stack of wooden crates used to pack dried figs at the back of the shop bore the intriguing inscription “LERIDA FIGS GROWN OF TURKEY,” a testament to the shop’s bygone days.
“These crates,” Caroline explained, “originally arrived at the shop filled with dried figs. I always thought they were too good to discard, so I’ve held onto them for decades now.” Nearby, a larger box with an ornate knotted logo carried a different story. “This one used to come to the shop filled with cooking woks, some with long handles and others with two handles. You couldn’t find quality woks and saucepans in supermarkets back then, but Infinity Foods used to sell these beautiful steel woks from Japan.”
Our tour continued as Caroline led us to the other side of her cosy lounge, adorned with overlapping antique rugs from Turkey and Afghanistan. Hidden beneath a thick pile of hand-woven carpet lay an antique wooden till—possibly one of the original till registers from the shop. Caroline couldn’t recall ever using it, but its historical significance made it too precious to discard.
Our senses were further indulged as we ventured back into the kitchen, greeted by the alluring aroma of fresh coffee and a plate of small cakes. In characteristic Caroline fashion, she presented a trove of memories and old keepsakes, thoughtfully bundled in a weathered Infinity Foods bag.
Among her personal archives, we discovered old jar labels for organic strawberry jam, maize syrup, and tofu in tamari sauce. Bitz chimed in, recounting the days when they would receive a van laden with organic produce from Holland. Without prior orders, they’d simply select items from the van, leading to the need for custom labels as many jars arrived with Dutch labels or none at all. Standing out was an issue of ‘Here’s Health’ magazine from 1986, with a young Joanna Lumley on the cover. Inside the centre spread is an article with the headline ‘Working Together’, celebrating worker cooperatives. It reads. “There are more than 700 worker cooperatives in Britain today. What motivates people to join forces and work together for the common good?
Amy, eager to learn more about Caroline’s history, inquired about her first day at Infinity Foods. “It must have been in 1981,” Caroline replied, although she could only produce a contract dating back to 1982. Flipping through her personal archives, she unearthed an employment contract from 12th March 1987, bearing the title “Shop Manageress.”
Although she didn’t overlap with Peter Deadman, a notable figure in Infinity Foods’ history, Caroline remembered Robin Bines well. “In fact,” she recalled with a smile, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me saying this, but Robin was a total workaholic. Myself and Bitz were living in the flat upstairs at the time and would often make Robin dinner as he would be working into the late hours.”
Reflecting on her early days at the co-op, Caroline remarked, “I can’t remember my first day, but I’ve always felt that my feet were standing on solid foundations. We sell organic food—it’s all good, and it’s real.” She emphasized the sense of belonging she found in the North Laine community, where Infinity Foods was not just a shop but a cultural hub.
Caroline recalled her initial encounter with the building before joining the shop’s staff. It was attending a self-defence class run by Paul Bonnet, held above Infinity Foods in what is now the HR office. The class aimed to equip individuals in the North Laine, including the burgeoning hippie community, with self-defence skills as the National Front posed an increasing threat.
Securing a job at Infinity Foods had been a significant milestone for Caroline, and she vividly remembered her emotions. “I remember feeling that I had gotten into the right place,” she recounted with affection. At the time, her boyfriend worked at Solstice Book Shop, another North Laine establishment. The neighbourhood, while still teeming with independent shops as it is today, had a rawer, edgier quality in those days. Caroline, hailing from Oxford, had frequented Uhuru Wholefoods in her hometown, and Infinity Foods felt like the natural fit for her.
“Solstice Book Shop was just around the corner from Infinity, so I was in there all the time,” Caroline reminisced. She explained how, during those years, Brighton’s vibrant gay and queer scene brought together people from diverse backgrounds and alternative lifestyles.
Delving deeper into the notion of being alternative, Caroline and Bitz recounted the challenges posed by the presence of the National Front (NF), a far-right political party, in Brighton during the 1980s. While the city had a thriving counterculture, it also had a significant NF presence, leading to confrontations and intimidation. Caroline vividly recalled, “There were lots of intimidating men; they used to walk around just to scare you and would come into the shop to try and intimidate us.”
Caroline mused that ultimately, the alternatives persevered, and Infinity Foods continued to thrive, despite the co-op’s edgy and scruffy beginnings.
When asked about her motivation to join the alternative movement, Caroline shared that Jacques Cousteau was her hero. Long before Sir David Attenborough, Cousteau had inspired her to contemplate life in the ocean and had underscored the delicate balance of the natural world and the human impact on it.
Caroline and Bitz, a well-known duo in the Infinity Foods community, were the focus of our next question. Amy was curious about how their relationship had started. Caroline’s eyes sparkled as she began the tale. “We used to mix tonnes and tonnes of muesli at the back of the shop, and Bitz baked proper bread in the bakery, teaching everyone how to make sourdough, rather than these big dense brick-like loaves.” As Caroline packed muesli in the rear of the shop, she would listen to the music emanating from the bakery. Bitz had a penchant for playing remarkable music in the shop and at gatherings, which initially caught Caroline’s attention. Bitz, in turn, was particularly taken with Caroline’s Chelsea Buns. He chuckled as he recounted, “When Caroline made the Chelsea Buns, they sold terribly! Word would get out she was making them, and then less than half would make it to the shelves for the public because the staff loved them so much they would get in there first.”
During those sunny summer days, the staff enjoyed an hour-and-a-half lunch break to take a dip in the sea. Caroline and Bitz clandestinely met at the end of the pier, and away from the eyes of their colleagues. It was Ann Clarke, another member and designer of the Infinity Foods logo, who astutely remarked, “I know.”
Caroline and Bitz on the right in the ’80s
We shifted our focus to the early years of working at the cooperative. Caroline noted, “The first thing I noticed was that everyone does everything.” She elaborated on her diverse roles, from working in the bakery to organizing parties and tackling accounting tasks, often all in a single day. Caroline expressed gratitude for her time at the cooperative, which had equipped her with a broad spectrum of skills, built her confidence, and instilled the belief that she could excel in any task. “I loved making the famous stuffed pittas,” she fondly recalled, though they are no longer part of the menu. “We made round pizzas back then too, and the absolute nightmare of rice muffins with onions.” The cooperative had provided her and countless others with incredible opportunities to contribute at every level of the business, exemplifying the value of cooperatives in fostering skill-sharing and empowering workers.
Caroline shared another intriguing detail from her past—the experience of designing packaging in the late ’80s. Before the warehouse moved to Saltdean, items such as dried fruit, pulses, and rice were bagged in the shop. Expiry dates were not a concern. As other businesses wanted to buy and sell our unique produce we needed proper packaging, and it was Caroline’s design that made the cut.”I love that Infinity Foods Wholesale still uses the same design on their lorries,” Caroline remarked with a sense of nostalgia.
Amy’s final question revolved around what Caroline would miss most about working at the shop. Caroline’s answer was simple yet profound: “Being a part of the North Laine.” For many years, Caroline and Bitz had not only worked in the shop but also resided in the flat above. They had deep roots in the community, watching as the shopfronts transformed over the years.
Caroline reminisced about the state of Brighton during the ’80s and ’90s, when the city faced challenges and dwindling tourism. Still, locals and business owners showed their appreciation to the Infinity Foods workers. People from far and wide came to shop at Infinity Foods, as organic and wholefood products were not readily available at the time. The North Laine quickly became a destination for unique and high-quality goods, partly thanks to Infinity Foods, as well as Dockerills, North Laine Timber and others.
With our coffee cups empty, we ventured into Caroline’s garden. It was evident that Infinity Foods had not just been a workplace for her; it had become a way of life. An old Ecover bottle had been repurposed as a garden scoop and trowel, bearing witness to Caroline’s deep respect for plastic and her commitment to the principles of reduce, reuse, and recycle.
We were drawn into the garden by the buzz of bees and the chirping of grasshoppers. Caroline pointed out how she had refrained from mowing the lawn that year, resulting in a profusion of insects. “Isn’t it wonderful how these natural pathways form?” she remarked, indicating the grassy walkways between rewilded patches of seed heads, akin to woodland tracks amid towering trees.
Following these paths, we reached a pond, where Caroline hesitated before crossing a bridge, cautioning us about its safety. Nearby, three large black boxes held a special place in Caroline’s heart. As she lifted one of the lids, the sweet scent of compost and steam wafted out. “You can see when it cools down that the worms appear, and I try my hardest to save them all. Sometimes, it’s full of worms, and I don’t know where they all come from,” Caroline shared, her eyes sparkling as she poked the compost with a large hook. “This is my witches’ cauldron; I just love having a compost heap,” she added, chuckling amidst the steam.
Caroline’s last day at Infinity Foods is this Saturday —after four decades of dedicated service and a deep connection to the North Laine community, she felt it was time to join her partner Bitz in retirement. Bitz retired in 2012, marking a significant milestone as the co-op’s first pensioner at the age of 65. Caroline departs with a treasure trove of memories and profound gratitude to all who have contributed to her journey. She looks forward to her retirement projects, including a quest to discover if hedgehogs still roam the area. Meanwhile, the kitchen would remain Bitz’s domain, where he would continue to craft fine food, play fabulous music, and occasionally whip up a G&T to his exacting standards.
