Bowing Down to Idylls

I’ve just been remembering why it is that townies never really get on in the countryside.

Partly it’s that all the so-called peace and quiet doesn’t really exist. You may get it out in a pasture somewhere, but in the village you get the traffic – especially the rush hour out – and it’s no good complaining about the tractors. Or the all-night combine harvesting, in season. And I remember, when a pair of incomers complained about Cranfield church clock, wondering why they weren’t tarred and feathered.

And then there’s the mud and manure on the roads. And getting stuck behind those tractors when you’re in a hurry. And the loneliness, if you don’t fit into the local demographic. And going to the local to find it’s full of scooter-riders or hikers.

But mostly it’s the way that, in a way that’s not true in the towns, your life is much less private property. That’s a great price to pay, if you live in a place where, at the least, everybody knows your face.

Mrs Henlow at Rose Cottageis up to no good. That bloke from Yodel has been in there for three hours. And that’s her third delivery this week.

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