‘He said you said she said’ — country chatter is exhausting

Speeding down the farm track from my little country retreat, I came across the gamekeeper in his Defender. I wound down my window. ‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’ he asked, looking askance at the dust cloud and no doubt wondering whether I had collided with any of his pheasants.

‘I’m going back to London for a rest,’ I told him. ‘Oh dear,’ he muttered, lighting a roll-up. Yes, oh dear. Very certainly, oh dear. As he obviously knows only too well, but neglected to tell me when I moved into my rented barn conversion, living in the country is absolutely exhausting.

Coming to this tranquil farm for long weekends is taking it out of me. I used to do three days country and four days town. But now I slope down the A3, reluctantly, on a Friday afternoon and race back to London first thing Monday morning because my nerves will not take much more than that.