The Idler

Country Diary: 2

The Idler’s Editor, Tom Hodgkinson, has retired to a Devonshire farmhouse in order to write a book. Here is the second installment of his fortnightly diary.

Friday 14 February
This week I wrote an article for the Guardian on country living. Light and self-mocking, the piece focussed on the various mishaps we townies have experienced since moving to North Devon, our lack of practical expertise and general urban uselessness. Inevitably, the paper hyped it somewhat and the headline “The Horrors of Country Living” appeared, giving the erroneous impression that we did not enjoy country life. Later in the week, the Daily Mail asked for a similar piece. I resisted at first, knowing that they would hype the story yet further, and feeling that the matter was closed, but when they told me the size of the fee I changed my mind.

It was obvious to me that by writing these pieces we may be courting trouble locally. I knew that if the locals saw my article they would misread it as an attack on their area. Therefore I had studiously avoided mentioning any town names in the Guardian story, so as not to get anyone1s backs up. I don’t think many people round here read the Guardian anyway.

However, it was not the same with the Daily Mail article. The Daily Mail article, a classic piece of journalistic fantasy, half fact, half poetic licence on the part of the editors, did mention our nearest town, Lynton, misspelling it for good measure. Also, the article was seen by the great and good of Lynton, and, as I had predicted, was completely misread.

Now Lynton is a charming town, it has a lovely little cinema, a delightful cliff railway and some quaint coffee shops. But I think even its most zealous promoter would agree that it has somewhat faded since its 1920s glory days. But to local leaders constantly trying to promote its positive
side in order to attract tourists, it is absolutely heresy for its name to appear in anything vaguely resembling a negative context.

As far as the great and good of the town are concerned., any mention of Lynton in print should glow with positive propaganda. “Why didn1t he mention the cinema?” said the manager of the local cinema. Other attacks focussed on the misspelling of Lynton (the Mail spelt it with an i, not a y), which the locals believed was my fault and not, as is the case, the fault of Daily Mail sub-editors, who read and correct the paper every night before it goes to press.

“If he doesn’t like it, why doesn’t he go back to London?” was another predictable reaction from resenting locals.

Now I could go to a town meeting and defend myself till I was blue in the face - the article was self-mocking, it does not slag off Lynton, half of it was made up by the Daily Mail, in fact I love this area and that is why I chose to live here - and it would make not one iota of difference. Because people will see what they want to see. They will extract from the article the point of view that, in some negative way, suits their world view.

Here endeth today’s lesson.

Monday 17 February
It is 11am, I have a hangover. I am behind schedule. I lay in bed till 9.20am this morning which I counted as a great victory. Generally, the pressures of childcare get me out of bed at seven or seven thirty. I have been writing about the need to banish guilt about lying in bed so I am pleased to find that I appear to have managed to banish my own guilt. Guilt is truly a terrible waste of energy.

The harsh winter sun is out. The bird feeder has run out of bird seed so I must remember to fill it. We bought a 25kg sack from the farmer’s superstore in nearby South Molton, a pleasing bulk purchase, and it sits in the dairy.

On Friday Stan the log man brought a new delivery of logs: this time it was ash; the last load had been a mix of oak and birch. So I am learning about wood; about how the different trees look, smell and burn. I was also pleased with myself for ordering the new load before the old load had run out. Truly, it seems I am learning the art of foresight.

I checked my e-mails. One pleasing result of the Guardian article was the response I got from readers. I have received a total of 20 e-mails responding to it. There were one or two unpleasant ones, but most were positive. I have agreed with one correspondent that there is a need for a Townies in the Country Manual, a book of advice for clueless urbanites
relocating, and I include a couple of her hints here:

1. Keep a spare pair of wellies in the car - I often seem to find myself having to get out and tramp about in mud just when I’m wearing my decent shoes. It’s also useful to keep a towel in the car - handy if you suddenly decide to go paddling in the summer, or just falling over etc.

2. Always keep some carrier bags in the car - very useful for gathering unexpected finds of kindling, putting in muddy boots, wet clothes etc. and we use them to collect rubbish when we go for walks on the beach.

3. Get one of those tiny little Mag torches that you can keep on your key ring (you can get them in Boots, Woolworths, Milletts etc). You’ve always got your keys with you right? So you always have a torch.

Thank you, Hilary Hobson, and if anyone has any more tips, please send them in. Perhaps we can compile them on the website.