The great divide
Penny Rich splits her life between the country and city. Here, she takes a light-hearted look at the differences between her worlds
The rural idyll has been receiving some rather bad press recently from city dwellers who’ve moved out in search of rustic bliss. Take, for example, Daisy Waugh’s once-anonymous ‘Country Mole’ diary in The Sunday Times and her book Desperate Diary Of A Country Housewife*. Both of these suggest her fan-tasy country life, of a Georgian house, lush fields, birdsong and fresh air, was exactly that – a fantasy. Perhaps she wasn’t quite ready for the fact that there’d be more black labs than black cabs, more Barbour than Prada, and not a skinny-latte-to-go on the horizon.
Well, I am both a Town Mouse and a Country Mouse, and if you’ve ever read the Aesop’s fable you’ll know exactly what I mean. Having happily lived between a flat in Kensington & Chelsea and a house in Hampshire for the past 12 years, I know both places have much to offer. But to get the best from each, I’ve had to adapt to my surroundings.
First, I had to tune in to the local way of life – so I listened hard, spoke little and tried not to jump to any conclusions. I soon realised that city dwellers in the countryside should never name drop (popular culture doesn’t count in the country) and that conversation-al lulls could be filled by asking ‘Did you kill that yourself?’ or ‘Can you recommend any good walks near here?’
Meanwhile, when country-dwelling friends visit the city I warn them not to be shocked by the gossip (in the city, it doesn’t come back three months later) and if there’s a lull in the conversation, advise them to try ‘What do you think about carbon off-setting?’ or ‘How do you cope with the parking/congestion charge/traffic?’
Next, I’ve had to learn how to conform to The Local Way. In Hampshire, I can spot a Londoner across the valley. Their clean, rust-free four-wheel drive glints in the sunlight as they clutch maps and desperately search for street signs. In SW1, the Shire-trippers are the ones wearing brown, green, taupe or navy (with splashes of mud, velvet or corduroy), who have hair blown dry by the wind.
I try to keep a foot in both camps, and I must confess to owning two separate wardrobes. The country look is ‘blend in’ – no matter what age, you wear a jacket or smart V-neck jumper, a crisp blouse and tailored trousers, or anything classic, as long as no one can quite remember what. The city look is ‘stand out’ – so no matter what age, you dress to be noticed, like an oversexed teenager or rock chick, and invariably spend too much on an outfit you’ll wear only once. I regularly do both looks, which proves I’m vain and shallow but I like to fit in. Over-dressing in the Shires raises as many eyebrows as under-dressing does at The Ritz.
My schizophrenic lifestyle also requires me to adapt my behaviour in other areas. The best way to explain this is by the example of my friend Lucy’s Chelsea dog, who wasn’t invited back after a weekend away in Gloucester. You see, no matter how well bred, London dogs lie on beds, terrorise sheep and poo by the front door. Country dogs, for all their smelly breath and pestilent coats, at least know what is expected of them. Sadly, humans can fall victim to similar faux pas in etiquette.
I have found that if you offer to help in the country, they’ll have you chopping wood and peeling spuds all day, yet in London it doesn’t matter how much help you offer, your hostess won’t let you lift a finger and may be quite offended by the suggestion.
In the city, I socialise every night, and eat out. In Hampshire, it’s Saturday night only, and a three-course dinner cooked at home. The rural invite of the year involves outdoor heaters, canvas, Pimm’s and a sticky or stodgy pud. The urban invite of the year involves a roped-off VIP section, ice sculptures, vodka jellies, champagne and maybe even goldfish swimming under the dance floor.
When I hear those cynical city dwellers making fun of country life I can’t help but feel smug. As a split-personality rodent, I enjoy the best of both worlds – the Town Mouse in me has fun and frivolity and the Country Mouse has seclusion and stunning scenery. So, for those of you dreaming of swapping the rat race for the rural idyll, or vice versa, here are my tips for a happy ending...
Click here for Penny's tips on getting the best from city and country life...
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