The Couple Who Swore They'd Never Move To The Country

  We were this week visiting friends from London who moved to Somerset about 10 years ago (although, as I have no doubt made clear before, we thought of it first). I was keen to impress them with our new found country ways, and told them we had this week had firewood delivered. "Did you chop it down to size with an axe?" Er no, it came ready chopped. "How did you get on stacking it?" Er, I paid £20 extra to have it stacked. They informed me I was not a Local, I was a Londonder playing at being a country dweller. They meant it in a caring way, but I knew I had to get back to my country life induction programme.  Last week I shared the first module (dealing with tradespeople’s distant relationship to timekeeping). It’s taken a few different incidents, but I think the second module has to be Dealing With Wildlife. It started with the field down the road, the venue for Mishka’s morning walk. You might remember this one, with the view of the rolling hills that propels me