It’s not an obvious spot for a food bank depot, to be honest. I’m in Highgate, a leafy, largely affluent part of north London on the eastern flank of Hampstead Heath. Naomi Russell’s double gates are wide open, not just in honour of my arrival to talk to her, but because people frequently pop in to drop off a bagful of groceries, show up to volunteer, or pause to look in and ask what’s going on here.

What’s going on here is that Naomi, 61, is running Food Bank Aid, which supplies 15 food banks across north London — from Tottenham and Euston to Edgware, Bushey and Borehamwood.

Her garage is the sorting hub. Inside, open-fronted blue plastic crates are stacked five-high, labelled: PASTA SAUCE, RICE PUDDING, MEAT — NOT PORK, NOODLES, RICE etc. As we’re in north London, it’s perhaps not surprising that I also spot PESTO and GLUTEN-FREE. Three masked volunteers are beavering away. I think of my own chaotic food cupboards. I need organisation! I need labels!

This year, just before Pesach, Naomi found herself wondering about people cleaning out their cupboards and possibly chucking out perfectly good food. She circulated a message via her synagogue, Norrice Lea in Hampstead Garden Suburb, to see if people would donate the food instead, and the shul set up a collection point in the forecourt. Within 24 hours, she had an entire van-load.

It wasn’t how she had planned to spend this stage of her life. She certainly wasn’t looking for a full-time job, as this has turned out to be. “I totally fell into it,” she says. In fact, having originally studied textile design at Glasgow School of Art, her intention was to find her way back to art. But running this vital food lifeline has clearly become a passion as well as a mission. Since that first collection, she reckons they have sent out about £500,000 worth of food. Donations are often prompted by their social media appeals, sent out by her stalwart PR whizz, Jo Rosenblatt.

One of the many unwanted side-effects of the pandemic is the massive increase in the demand for food banks. In Finchley, for example, they used to have around 15 people show up on a Saturday morning to collect food. Now that number is over 100. In Tottenham, previously about 30 families used the food bank; it now serves over 300 families, providing food for perhaps 1,000 people. The less affluent the area, the more they need — because there are fewer residents able to donate.

One key difference is that some of the new people in need are those who have worked their whole lives, but who have seen their livelihood stripped away in the pandemic and are shocked that they are having to rely on food banks. Naomi says some are “asset-rich but cash-poor — they might have a nice house but no money coming in”.

What she is most proud of is that she has improved communication. Before her venture, the individual food banks weren’t engaging with each other. One might have excess pasta and sugar, say, and it would just sit there, while another only a few miles away might be desperate for pasta. Now, Naomi sends out a list to each food bank and they simply tick what they need. Or she messages them: “We’ve got lots of fresh milk — who wants some?”

Christmas is coming, but Naomi isn’t too worried because people tend to be more generous, though she sighs, “People include a box of Celebrations, say, and that’s nice but, you know — people still need to eat.”

It’s January that concerns her. People over-spend at Christmas then can’t stretch their budget to donate to the food banks. “In January, the donations are down — but the need is up.”

It’s not all grind though. It brings a break from the constraints of being stuck at home in lockdown. “One of the nicest things for me is it’s so sociable,” says Naomi. “People stop by to chat, then they end up volunteering.”

As we’re winding up our conversation, a van pulls in. A couple get out and start unloading boxes of food they have just bought at Tesco in Colney Hatch, using a shopping list provided by Naomi. The husband, Chris, reports that the manager of Tesco’s, on discovering that they were buying for a food bank, said next time they could call ahead with their order and the staff would get it all ready for them to save time.

In this age of virtue-signalling, it is inspiring to see someone not blowing her own trumpet, just mask on, head down, making a difference.

Unfortunately, I’m assuming she’s way too busy to come and re-organise my cupboards.

The fee for this article was donated to Food Bank Aid. Facebook: Food Bank Aid: North London, email: foodbankaid@gmail.com