Only last year, this column reported that the organics market had finally cracked London...but how times change. Cash-strapped Londoners have never worried as much as Americans about their health and, with free health care delivered to all at a world-class level by the NHS, they don’t need to. Suddenly tobacco and alcohol sales are up and it’s organic food and bottled water (with sales at a ten-year low) that seem the trappings of a more decadent age. In truth, London’s an old hand at austerity, and Londoners are dealing with the "credit crunch" in literally age-old fashion and, toxins aside, our grandparents didn’t do too badly.

Some boom tastes die hard, and with everyone now a gastronome, growing your own food might even be as popular as in World War II. Waiting lists for allotments (small plots of soil provided by local councils to gardeners) are up to forty years long in Camden.

I’ve been growing tomatoes, chilies and herbs all summer in my window boxes and my friend Tamara is having a bash at peppers indoors. In the 90s we’d rather go naked than wear fur. Now we’d rather go hungry than eat out of season.

Cycling to work, one of the passions of Mayor Boris Johnson, saves you that £25 per week on a travelcard and, wouldn’t you know, gets you fit. This summer every park railing and lamp post has a bike illegally chained to it. 12 custom-built "cycle super highways" are in development to get the city’s workforce from the outskirts to the center and back.

The new wave of bikers are a sensible breed. There’s not enough room for them on London’s narrow, clogged roads and they know it, or they’ve learned. Safety and utility are key. The Brompton folding bike won’t win you any prizes for style, nor indeed will cycling helmets, but they can be carried into the office and won’t be stolen. Single tires chained to railings are almost as common a sight. Yes, times are hard.

Cynics said the prospect of the 2012 London Olympics wouldn’t make us a nation of sporting prowess and they may still be right. Yet communal sporting events are one of the stories of the summer. The British Triathlon Federation reports a 20% higher uptake of triathlon events, and I’ve lost count of the number of people asking me to sponsor them in half marathons (naturally I refuse - credit crunch.) The world of sport seems to have a new energy, with Andy Murray a contender for the Wimbledon tennis championship and news recently in that Britain won the Ashes from Australia--a rare occurrence indeed. There’s even a government initiative, led by "Dance Tsar" Arlene Phillips and inspired by the continued success of Strictly Come Dancing, to start large scale ballroom dancing classes in the city’s parks. Our grandparents would be proud.

There’s some evidence that those with jobs are still spending money on fitness, just focusing it tighter. While gym memberships are significantly down, personal trainer Nick reports he’s "never been busier." Meanwhile, the two widely reported summer sale booms are spa treatments (though I wouldn’t say I’ve noticed new spas opening) and condoms.

I’ve no idea what the grandparents would say about that but I hope they’d be glad we’re still having fun, which is still on the menu. Champagne may no longer be, but in true retro spirit the summer’s favorite alcopop was "perry", or pear cider, popularized by brands such as Bulmers and Gaymer Cider Company.

People might be staying in nationally, with pubs said to be closing at a rate of 52 per week, but Londoners don’t have to drive home, and smoke outside in huddled masses. Binge-drinking is still virtually compulsory on an evening out and you’ll no longer find a pint of lager on sale with an alcohol level of less than 4%, nor a 125ml measure of wine, much to the dismay of the Daily Mail. Thank goodness for the NHS.