Let me state this plainly and for the record: the countryside and me don't get on. A dedicated urbanite, I've crossed paths with rural England on numerous occasions and the results have always been unfortunate. I want to enjoy a rural retreat, and every couple of years kid myself into booking a weekend or even, God help me, a week in England's rustic splendour. And then the stupefying boredom of the reality becomes apparent. Having schlepped out of the metropolis, I wind up in some rural nowhere to find wonderful views and, well, nothing else save for a post office hanging on for dear life and a pub where being male and asking for a glass of wine appears to be a capital offence. For some inexplicable reason, I don't find the proposition particularly appealing.
展开▼
