Andrew Marc interviews Tim Barford
The Quiet Revolution of Vegfest
When Tim Barford talks about food, it’s never just about food. It’s about ethics. It’s about politics. It’s about trust. It’s about who controls what ends up on your plate — and what that says about the world we’re building.
Barford is the founder of VegfestUK, one of Europe’s largest vegan festival organisations. Since launching the first event (then called the Bristol Vegan Fair) — in 2003, Vegfest has grown from a modest gathering of 40 stalls and 1,200 visitors into a multi-city festival attracting thousands. Events in Bristol, Brighton, and later at Olympia London signalled not just growth, but momentum. And according to Tim, that momentum reflects something much bigger than a trend.
SEA CHANGE
At this year’s festival, attendance was up sharply. ‘We’ve had 7,200 through in the last few days. Last year we had 5,000. So there is a massive rise. That is really noticeable. What’s also interesting is a bigger spend — all our stall holders are reporting a lot more people spending money.’
He’s careful to note that this isn’t simply about more people “going vegan”. ‘It’s not so much people going vegetarian, as it is people reducing their meat and dairy. Keeping their favourites — the Sunday roast, fish and chips on a Friday — but it’s the stuff in between that people are looking to cut out. The processed meat. The cheap cuts. The meat where you don’t really know what’s in it.’
The timing is no accident. The horse meat scandal shook consumer confidence across the UK, prompting many to question the integrity of industrial supply chains. ’Nobody can trust the Food Standards Agency … it’s not just a case of one or two slipping through — this is organised crime.’
For Barford, the scandal wasn’t an anomaly; it was a symptom. A crack in a system he believes has been ethically unstable for decades. But rather than preach abstinence, he frames change as accessible, perhaps even pleasurable. ‘Reducing your meat and dairy is a step that everybody can take. And everybody can benefit. It’s not hard — in fact it’s pleasurable.’
Vegfest, he insists, exists to offer options — to allow people to taste, explore and decide for themselves. ‘There’s going to be stuff you don’t like. But there’ll be other stuff you taste and think, ‘Wow, that’s amazing. I just never knew it could be so good.’ And then it’s easy. You just change your habits.’
AN ETHICAL ENTERPRISE
Barford’s own journey into veganism began, by his own admission, with youthful rebellion. ‘I went vegetarian to piss my mum and dad off. I was about 18… this was 1981, at the height of the Thatcher underclass. Anything you could do to annoy the establishment.’
But what began as provocation deepened into conviction. In the mid-1980s, during the Ethiopian famine and Live Aid era, a stark economic reality altered his trajectory. ‘Some big pennies dropped about the fact that the price of a pint of milk in 1984 was the price of a child’s life in Ethiopia. Britain bought more cattle fodder off Ethiopian farmers than Britain gave back in Live Aid. We paid Ethiopian farmers to starve their children to grow fodder to put milk on our table.’
For Barford, that connection between Western consumption and global suffering made retreat impossible. He has now been vegan for over three decades. And yet he remains strikingly pragmatic. ‘I totally relate to people eating meat. I can see why people want to eat meat. A nice piece of lean meat from an organic butcher still looks attractive. But when you look at the rest of it — that’s when it starts getting ugly.’
His critique is aimed less at individuals than at systems, particularly industrial processing. ‘Why would you want to eat a sausage? Spinal cord and hoof… that’s what’s in there. And you think I’m weird?’ The provocation is deliberate, but the underlying message is serious – look closely at what you normalise and perpetuate.
PEOPLE OVER PROFIT
Vegfest itself emerged not from corporate strategy but frustration. Tim also runs Yaoh, an organic hemp body-care company. In the early 2000s, he and other ethical traders found existing organic shows uninspiring. ‘After about four or five shows we were just all going, “Look, this is nonsense, why are we bothering?” And I said, ‘I’ll go and do my own show.’
The first Bristol event in 2003 was modest but vibrant with bands, talks and community energy. It laid the groundwork for what would become a national platform. One defining principle has remained intact: Vegfest is not driven by profit. ‘We’re not for profit. We do people. We do ethics.’
When major supermarkets attempted to buy space at the London show, he refused. ‘Sainsbury’s tried to book in. We knocked ’em back… They’re not ethical enough for us. We understand supermarkets are a fact of life, but by nature they shaft people. There are other ways to provide food without poisoning people.’ The decision was not financially sound, but it was philosophically consistent.
A CULTURAL SHIFT
If Bristol provides a slightly harder-edged, music-driven backdrop, Brighton offers something different. ‘Brighton is just… fluffy hippy. It’s great. People know what vegan and vegetarian is. They’re really up for it. It’s a party town — people come along and let go and have fun.’
What matters most to traders, he says, is education. In cities where awareness is high, conversations are shorter, enthusiasm stronger, and support more tangible. The growth of Vegfest mirrors what he sees as a broader cultural shift. ‘It’s a peaceful revolution. Ever since the Beatles were singing about revolution — it’s always been coming from the inside. It’s silent. It’s about picking up on positive options and working them into your routine. There is no pressure. No negative energy. You get so much from it — it’s amazing.’
For Tim, the question isn’t whether everyone should immediately renounce meat and dairy. It’s whether our actions align with our professed values. ‘If you want to be spiritual, you want to be ethical, you want to be a concerned global citizen, you just cannot sit there and gallop through meat and dairy. It contradicts what you’re trying to do.’ His language is often blunt and perhaps confrontational. But it carries the force of solid long-held convictions.
Vegfest’s growth suggests he is no longer speaking from the margins. Whether motivated by health, ethics, environmental concern or simple curiosity, thousands are now stepping through the doors each year — tasting, questioning and adjusting. Not a revolution of banners and barricades but purely one of habits.