So here I am, laid back in my rocking chair with my feet up on the coffee table just listening to the trees. Because that’s all there is – no constant stream of traffic, swearing drunks or terrible drumming. Just trees.

The cottage itself is adorable, with bay windows in the living room and dining room, a rosemary bush out front and a huge field surrounded by trees. It feels as though I’m living in a forest clearing, but am still within walking distance of two pubs that serve food and a little newsagent/post office. A few miles away are two traditional farm shops which, miraculously, have halved my food bills. Last night we had wild venison casserole which actually tasted of something… There’s even a station just down the road so as far as traditional village life goes, you can’t really get much better than this.

So here it is – the open invitation to friends and family: Come and visit.  I’ll cook.

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